


the only thing that comes (is the post-traumatic stresses)

by collegefangirl3791, skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: these battle scars [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (i swear it's there in the beginning), Again, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, BAMF Padmé Amidala, BAMF Satine Kryze, Betrayal, Canon Divergence - Order 66, Canon Divergence - Revenge of the Sith, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Clone Wars, Codependency, Death Watch (Star Wars), Dependency, Depression, Don't Say We Didn't Warn You, Dooku is a shithead, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escapism, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts, F/M, Felucia, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lightsaber Battles, Literal Sleeping Together, Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Mandalore, Mandalorians - Freeform, Mando'a, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Mustafar, Nightmares, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Oops, Order 66, Padawan Kanan Jarrus, Pain, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Recovery, Slavery, Sleep Deprivation, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Suicidal Thoughts, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, Torture, Utapau, What Have I Done, a shitload of ocs - Freeform, briefly, hallelujah for the end of the war, look it's Mustafar it's gonna be awful, oh look we did it again, that all have important character arcs apparently, well sorta, where tf did this plot come from, why is everything once again a train wreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 150,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collegefangirl3791/pseuds/collegefangirl3791, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: The door to the barracks suddenly flies open, slams into the wall, and Anakin sprints in. His eyes are wide and wild and he looks utterly horrified. “He escaped,” he gasps out, stopping and leaning against one of the bunks.“What?” Ahsoka frowns, not understanding. “Who? Master, I don’t--”“Palpatine,” and Anakin holds out a handheld holoprojector. The holo plays, showing the former Chancellor being escorted from his cell by a guard, past the perimeter of the Force-block, and then there’s a flash of lightning and the holo goes dark.Ahsoka swears. “But that means--”“We have to do something,” and he looks so sick.[or: Sidious may have been arrested, but only a poor excuse for a Sith Lord would not have planned for such an eventuality.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to what is theoretically the last major installment of this series, in which we theoretically manage to tie up all the loose ends, major plot arcs, and major character arcs. as per usual, it's extremely angsty, almost right off the bat, and we're not exactly sure how long the angst will continue.
> 
> furthermore, i, badwolfgirl, am leaving tomorrow late afternoon for Canada, and i won't return until Tuesday. so if you're lucky you might get one more chapter before i leave, but otherwise there won't be anything until i get home--i can't even write on my phone as international data is stupidly expensive. :P
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy, and please let us know what you think!

The Sith Lord known as Darth Sidious, formerly Chancellor of the Republic, sits in the corner of his cell as he has done for the last two months and makes plans.

The Jedi have taken his lightsaber, and the cell is cut off from the Force; they seem to believe him helpless, like they’ve conquered the mighty Sith Master by taking away his powers. They seem to have forgotten, Sidious muses, that his facade, Sheev Palpatine, was a  _ politician. _

His primary weapon has never been his lightsaber--though he is exceedingly skilled with the blade, of course--nor has it been the Force, as he prefers to use the Force subtly, to manipulate and hide and bend rather than straight-out attack. No, his favored weapon is  _ words, _ and he needs no connection to the Force to use words.

He’s spent  _ weeks _ quietly manipulating the guard who brings him his meals, and  _ finally, _ his manipulations have borne fruit; the guard will be here soon, and Sidious has convinced him to take Sidious to see the sunlight--in binders, of course, but the moment he leaves the Force-blocked cell the binders won’t matter.

The guard comes right on time, as usual, and after Sidious eats it’s time. The guard apologizes about the necessity of the binders, and Sidious almost absently reassures him, all the while concentrating on summoning all his  _ hatred _ of the pathetic, weak Jedi Order. The guard makes the mistake of cuffing his hands in front of him, and Sidious can’t quite hide a smirk. 

_ Finally. _

The cell door opens, and Sidious steps out; the moment he passes the threshold, power  _ pours _ into him, and it’s just a matter of a little concentration and lightning sparks blue from his fingers, crackles across the security camera, shutting it down. The guard spins back around to face him, frowns, says, “What was that?”

Sidious shrugs. “It must have been a malfunction,” he says, puts a trace of the Force behind his words, and the guard nods, leads him forward. Sidious takes the time to carefully undo the binders, dropping them carelessly behind him, and then when the guard turns back to him he puts every ounce of Force-persuasion he has behind his words and says, “You  _ will _ show me where my lightsaber is.”

The clone guard  _ hesitates. _

And then his eyes go vacant and he nods. “I will show you where your lightsaber is.”

Sidious  _ smiles. _

This is all-too-easy.

~~~

Rex shifts a little in his seat and Brii gives him a sharp look. “Sir, if you don't want me to mess up, you have to stop moving.”

“I know,” Rex grumbles, and ignores Ahsoka’s smirk.  _ Don't give me that _ , he thinks, feels her amusement surge in response.  _ This wasn't my idea, remember. _

_ You did agree, though. _

_ Under extreme duress, _ he says, hisses a little.  _ Ow. _

_ I wouldn't call Brii asking you nicely and showing you a design he drew ‘extreme duress.’ _

Rex rolls his eyes. Brii’s pleading looks could be weaponized. And the jaig eyes had looked kriffing  _ good _ . And Ahsoka had kept pestering him and, well, here he is.

Getting a kriffing  _ tattoo _ .

Brii keeps saying he’s almost done, but Rex is starting to think that’s just a tactic to get him to be patient and he doesn’t appreciate it.

His squad is sitting around, mostly making approving comments to Brii, suggesting he add more blue (and Rex wishes he hadn’t permitted Brii to do color but the kid had been so  _ determined _ ). They’re being very supportive, especially Fives, who has brought him two cups of caf so far and seems utterly thrilled at the turn of events.

(He’s been doing better lately, which Rex is grateful for.)

_ It looks good _ , Ahsoka hums, and Rex smiles at her, rolling his eyes.

_ Well I hope so, because I’m stuck with it now. _

Brii isn’t letting him see it until he’s done, which Rex thinks is unfair, but Brii has proven to be like that with most things relating to his art - he doesn’t like people seeing the process. Thankfully, it’s only a few more minutes before Brii frowns thoughtfully, leans back, and nods. “I think I’m done,” he says firmly, a nervous smile playing across his features.

Rex peers down at his chest to see, and it’s not a good angle but what he sees is, he thinks, much better than he’d thought. Bri hasn’t gone crazy with colors, like he’d feared, but kept to blue with just a few embellished hints of gold and orange. Ahsoka comes around in front of him next to Brii, nods approvingly with a tiny smirk on her face. “Good job, Brii.”

“Thanks,” Brii says happily, and Rex stands, nodding.

“Yeah kid, it’s great. Really.” He gives him a genuine smile and reaches for his shirt again. He has a lot of scars, most of them bad, and having them on display to his men is… not comfortable.

~~~

Ahsoka had honestly never thought she’d manage to convince Rex to get a tattoo--of course, Brii’s extremely effective pleading looks had definitely  _ helped, _ but still. She’s rather proud of herself.  _ You know, you’re next, _ Rex tells her, and she makes a face at him.

_ Nope. Brii’s pleading looks don’t work on me, _ she says, smirks a little.

“When are you going to get a tattoo, Commander?” Brii asks, looking brightly up at her. “I have a few design ideas I’ve sketched out if you want to take a look?”

Kriff.

Rex is laughing at her, silently, and she sighs. “Sure,” she says, gives Brii a smile. “I’d love to--”

The door to the barracks suddenly  _ flies _ open, slams into the wall, and Anakin sprints in. His eyes are wide and wild and he looks utterly  _ horrified. _ “He escaped,” he gasps out, stopping and leaning against one of the bunks. 

“What?” Ahsoka frowns, not understanding. “Who? Master, I don’t--”

“Palpatine,” and Anakin holds out a handheld holoprojector. The holo plays, showing the former Chancellor being escorted from his cell by a guard, past the perimeter of the Force-block, and then there’s a flash of lightning and the holo goes dark.

Ahsoka  _ swears. _ “But that means--”

“We have to  _ do something,” _ and he looks so  _ sick. _

~~~

When Anakin bursts in, Rex automatically snatches one of his DCs off the table, curls his finger around the trigger because when Anakin gets like this it means something is very, very bad.

His hand only tightens around it when he hears  _ why _ . Palpatine, the kriffing Chancellor, the  _ Sith Lord _ , cannot  _ escape _ . Rex wants to see him executed for his crimes, wants to know the people he loves are  _ safe _ from him.

“Let’s kriffing go after him, sir,” he says, reaching for his armor and gun belt, sees his men all scrambling to their feet too, grabbing buckets, ready to  _ leave _ and find the man (not even the man, the creature) who has been manipulating them all from the beginning, who ordered Rex reconditioned, who must have something to do with the voice in their heads and the nightmares.

But Anakin holds up a hand, forestalls them. “We need a plan. A real one. I don’t even know where he is, and he’s a  _ Sith Lord _ .” They’ve all fought Sith and  _ dar’jetii _ before, but something tells Rex that Anakin is more worried about this one than he had been the others - and it makes sense. If no one has noticed before that  _ Palpatine _ is a Sith, he must be powerful, and patient.

Rex doesn’t want to lose more of his men in a battle they aren’t qualified to fight (he sees Grievous, Dooku, Ventress, and the worst, Krell, cutting down his  _ vod’e  _ as easily as if they were practice dummies), but he needs to have this, a chance at making Palpatine  _ pay _ for everything he’s caused. Rex is sure the Chancellor is responsible for more than they even know. “You’re right, sir, but… We should hurry.”

“Trust me, I  _ know _ , Rex,” Anakin growls, feral and fierce and frightened.

~~~

“Master, comm Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says. “We’ll need his help. The hard part will be  _ finding _ him, but I think I have an idea.”

She doesn’t tell Anakin what her idea  _ is; _ if he knew, he’d  _ never _ let her do it. But it’s the best chance they have of finding Sidious--Palpatine--before it’s too late.

_ What are you planning, Soka? _ Rex asks, and she swallows.

_ You need to shield yourself, hard. And  _ **_don’t reach for me,_ ** _ no matter what you feel. This is--safe, I promise, but not for you. _

He does  _ not _ feel convinced.  _ Should I tell Anakin? _

_ No! I’m fine, I know what I’m doing. _ Mostly. Probably.  _ Just kriffing put the shields up, Rex. Please? _

He sighs, glares at her, but she feels the shields go up and she smiles. He just glares harder.

_ Snips, what are you doing? _ Anakin asks, and she carefully brings up her strongest shields, blocking him out. Some things are  _ not _ meant to be shared.

And then she closes her eyes and sinks into the Force, and  _ calls. _

_ Father! _

_ You do not need to shout, _ the Father says with a sort of dry amusement.  _ What is it, child? _

_ You showed me the Sith Master once before, _ she says.  _ I need to find him again, and to be able to follow him if he moves. _

_ Are you sure? _ the Father asks.  _ I cannot shield you from his Darkness. This is not safe for you, child. _

_ It’s the best option we have, _ Ahsoka argues.  _ He’s too dangerous, we  _ **_have_ ** _ to find him. Do it. _

_ Very well, _ and she’s jerked out of the meditation by an overwhelming aura of  _ Darkness, _ so thick and choking she feels like she’s suffocating, and she reaches for Rex instinctively, tries not to be sick.

~~~

Rex doesn’t know what Ahsoka is planning, only that he wants to grab her and shake her and stop her because it sounds  _ dangerous _ , but instead he does as he’s told and wraps himself in the toughest shields he has, pulls away from their bond because he remembers a hurricane tearing apart his mind and he doesn’t want to feel that again - he knows it will kill him if he does.

He shoots Anakin a look and Anakin strides over. “What is she  _ doing? _ ” he hisses.

“I don't know, I- ah,  _ gods _ .” Icy cold snaps across the bond, in the midst of it the feeling of Ahsoka’s panic, and he realizes she's reaching for him which  _ must _ mean it's alright to respond.

He grabs the bond and he feels nothing but  _ cold _ , ice that burns, an ocean of anger and hate and chaos and he doesn't know what it is but he reaches into the waves to Ahsoka’s desperate thoughts, grabs on tight. He senses she  _ needs him _ so he tightens his shields, ignores the hate that's whispering in the back of his mind, and projects warmth and love like armor against the ice. Protection, duty, strength, love - all the things that have always helped him control his anger.

_ This is so much, Rex,  _ she thinks.

_ Hang on, Soka, _ he answers, although he doesn't know why she's doing this except that it will supposedly help them find the Chancellor.  _ Focus on me _ .

~~~

Ahsoka can’t  _ breathe. _

She clings to Rex’s love and warmth, forces the burning ice of the Darkness into a small point, wraps it in her strongest shields--even then, she can still feel the  _ hatred _ and raw  _ evil _ whispering to her, and she shudders, sucks in a few desperate breaths, and then she forces her eyes open.

“Okay,” she says, carefully, winces as the Dark tries to force its way out again. (It does  _ not _ like being bound up. Hopefully this doesn’t backfire on her the way it did on Sidious, although at least she’s not covering the galaxy in a web.) “I--should be able to find him now.”

“What the  _ kriff _ did you do?” Anakin snaps, eyes wide and worried. “Snips, your mind--”

“I  _ know,” _ Ahsoka says, tries not to be sharp. “I asked nicely. That’s what I did.”

That doesn’t explain  _ anything, _ and she knows that, and from the  _ look _ Anakin gives her, he  _ knows _ she knows. “Ahsoka…”

She huffs, because all he has to do is say her name in that  _ tone, _ with that  _ look, _ and… “I. Asked the Force to show me Sidious like it did last time?”

“Last time?” 

Oh, right, she hasn’t actually  _ told _ Anakin about that yet. “Uh, it’s a long story. Also I may have saved his life.” Anakin stares at her like he can’t quite believe her, and she raises her hands in surrender (and then grits her teeth as another wave of hatred-fear- _ pain _ breaks through her shields). “It was--kind of an accident?”

“You never actually explained that,” Fives says.

She gives him a withering stare. “Well, I was a  _ bit busy _ keeping you guys from  _ killing me!” _

Fives recoils, and she swears silently, because she  _ knows better _ and she didn’t  _ mean that _ and-- “Kriff, I think it’s affecting me,” she mutters, closes her eyes. “I can-- _ feel _ him. There’s so  _ much.” _

She reaches for Rex again, clings to his love.  _ He’s so strong, _ she sends.  _ I can’t--I can’t keep him out. _

~~~

Rex wraps his mind around Ahsoka’s as best he can, projecting love and trying to make his armor hers, too. It’s so  _ cold _ and he remembers trying to drag Ahsoka back from the Son, only to be forced out of her mind, unable to help, and he clings to his own anger (anger at the way Fives’ eyes flicker with guilt, the way Ahsoka feels frightened and lonely, the way he wants to see Palpatine  _ burn _ ) and fills her with what strength he has to offer. Then he feels  _ Anakin’s _ mind too, and the shields his General puts up are far better and stronger than his own.

He feels Ahsoka focus, and then she smiles a little, nods. “Thank you,” she says, and Rex nods because it still takes too much mental focus for him to keep shields up, so talking is hard.

He glances over at Fives and the rest of his squad, and smiles at them, trying to be reassuring because Fives looks withdrawn into himself and the rest of his men don’t look much better. “You know she didn’t mean it,  _ vod _ ,” he says quietly, stepping towards Fives, and the ARC trooper shrugs carelessly, with an effort at a smile in Ahsoka’s direction.

“Yeah, I get it. No harm done, Commander,” he says, but that’s just not true and Rex sighs, wishes he could focus enough to  _ fix this _ . Instead he just pushes more love and strength at Ahsoka because he knows she needs it.

~~~

Ahsoka grabs onto Rex’s projection, holds tight--sends a brief thought of gratitude to Anakin for his shields (he responds with a burst of angry reprimand, and she winces a little because she definitely deserves that), takes a sharp breath. “Fives,” she starts, but he shakes his head, cuts her off.

“You’re fine, Commander, let’s just get that slimy bastard  _ dar’jetii,”  _ and she’s going to have to have a conversation with him after this. For reasons she can barely understand (and they haven’t exactly explained it to her, she’s not  _ vod’e _ even if she and Rex are--whatever they are), Fives has been the one who’s struggled the most with Kamino, even though she’s told him multiple times she doesn’t blame him for what happened.

“Alright,” she says, gets to her feet and checks to make sure her ‘sabers are where they should be--both of them, including the new one she’d made just a couple weeks ago, are clipped securely to her belt, and she nods. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll split into squads,” Anakin says, raising his voice so the entire barracks can hear him. “As soon as we get a fix on Palpatine’s position, form a secure perimeter, tight as you can, but once Ahsoka and I engage him  _ do not fire.” _

“Remember Krell?” Ahsoka asks, sees how the troopers who’d been in the command center when she’d fought him nod, understanding dawning.

~~~

Rex nods, glances at his squad while he picks up the last of his armor from the table, buckling on his pauldrons and bracers with swift, practiced fingers. Remembering Krell puts a tightness in his chest that he has to breathe past because they had been as prepared as they could be, but Krell had still broken past them. But this time, this time they’ll be ready, and Anakin and Ahsoka and Kenobi will all be there. That will be enough, won’t it? (He doubts it, a little, but there’s anger burning like coals in his gut and his instinct says it’s time to fight.)

He puts on his helmet and unholsters his other DC-17, feels the comforting weight of both blaster pistols against his palms, and pulls away some of his shields from Ahsoka so he can actually  _ focus _ . “Lead the way, Commander,” he growls, and Ahsoka nods, and he senses her listening to the cold point of hatred she’s struggling so hard to contain, and then suddenly she takes off running out of the mess. Anakin and Rex and the battalion form up behind her, running too, in a move as familiar as breathing, now.

“I’m going to comm Obi-Wan to get the 212th to meet us,” Anakin says. “We’re going to need them.”

Rex lifts one hand slightly in acknowledgement. They’ll need everyone they can get.

~~~

Ahsoka closes her eyes, falls deeper into the Darkness that is Sidious’ presence, trying to divine  _ where _ he’s going; he’s moving, she can tell that much, and she doesn’t want to run around all of kriffing Coruscant on a wild-bantha chase.

It’s  _ hard, _ so hard. His mind is a whirlpool of turning cogs and plots and plans, seeds he’s planted  _ years _ ago and carefully nurtured, layers upon layers of contingency plans set just for this possibility. He’s simultaneously gleeful about how  _ easy _ this all is, how smoothly it’s going, and frustrated that some of his seeds aren’t  _ ready _ yet. She gets a sense that he’d needed a few more months for the political climate to be ideal; try as she might, however, she can’t find what his current plans are, not without alerting him to her presence.

She  _ does, _ however, find his destination.

Clinging to her bonds, Ahsoka lets love and strength, anger and determination pull her out of the Dark, and she gasps faintly and swallows. “The Senate, he’s going to the Senate,” she says, and then she starts running again.

He has  _ so many plans, _ plans within plans within plans, and she feels a heavy, choking  _ despair _ settle leaden in her stomach. How can they even  _ hope _ to defeat him?

_ Stop it, Snips, that’s his influence, _ Anakin sends, and she feels him chasing out all the fear and despair.  _ Focus on the here-and-now, and remember--the first thing anyone ever taught me about the Force is that your focus determines your reality. _

She nods, breathes in, out.  _ Your focus determines your reality. _ They can do this.

~~~

“Rex, Obi-Wan is with the Council but he’s going to meet us,” Anakin calls, and Rex nods, turns his own wristcomm to Cody’s frequency as they turn the last corridor headed for the barracks hangar. He can tell Ahsoka is having trouble focusing but that isn’t priority; priority is the Senate building, as fast as possible, which means they need transports.

“Cody,” he snaps.

_ “Hey,  _ vod _ , _ ” Cody answers.  _ “What do you need?” _

“Get your battalion down to the hangar,  _ now _ . The Chancellor escaped and he’s headed for the Senate.”

_ “Copy that.” _

“They’re on their way, General,” Rex says, and Anakin shoots him a tight smile and a nod.

“Great, Rex.”

Whatever the Chancellor wants with the Senate building, it  _ can’t _ be good. Rex pushes himself to run faster because they have to have the transports up as soon as the 212th arrives, have to  _ get there _ and fix this.

When his entire battalion bursts into the hangar like they have a whole droid army behind them, most of the flight technicians and pilots go dead still, then someone shouts “How many ships?”

“We’re transporting two battalions,” Rex answers, waves his hand and the 501st forms up into squads so they can get on their transports as efficiently as possible.  _ Hurry up, Cody _ . Then he strides over to Ahsoka, grabs her arm. “You doing alright?”

She meets his eyes, takes a steady breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just… We need to get to him.”

Rex nods, glances at his General. “We’re working on it.”

It feels longer than the ten minutes it is before Cody and the 212th march into the hangar, also split into squads, and Cody comes over to them, salutes to Anakin. “General. We’re ready to go.”

The pilots have the transports running and Rex helps Cody direct each squad to their transport as fast as possible - it’s Rex’s squad who moves fastest, understands the clearest what they’re dealing with. Ahsoka goes with them, Anakin goes with Cody, and Rex lets himself put his arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders as they take off, sends her another rush of strength and love.  _ It’s going to be alright, _ he thinks, grimly. He’s more than ready to make the Chancellor pay for everything that’s been done to his men since he authorized the creation of the GAR.

~~~

Commander Fox’s troopers have  _ always _ been loyal to the Chancellor, and that hasn’t changed just because Sidious had the misfortune to be imprisoned. When Sidious borrows his guard-turned-escort’s comm to contact the Commander, he’s gratified by the instant response and assurance that the Commander would be waiting with a squad--and a pair of Sidious’ Senatorial robes--at a safe rendezvous.

Sidious has always appreciated true loyalty.

“You and your men are to be commended for your loyalty in the face of such trials,” he tells the clone Commander, smiles the grandfatherly smile he’s perfected over the years he’s been Sheev Palpatine.

“Thank you, Chancellor, sir,” Commander Fox says, bowing his head. “The men and I all agreed there’s no way you could be a Sith Lord  _ or _ a traitor. How  _ anyone _ could believe that we don’t understand--you’ve dedicated so much of your life to working tirelessly for the good of the Republic, and this is your reward?”

Sidious does his best to suppress a triumphant smile. “Indeed, Commander--but we must not be angry at the Senate for their error. The Jedi have been plotting to take over the Republic, and the Senate has spent too long blindly putting faith in the Jedi Order to recognize the seeds of deception. That is why I must speak to them; I can see clearly through the web of lies so cleverly woven by Grand Master Yoda and the Jedi Council. As Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, it is my responsibility to aid the Republic when it begins to stray down the wrong path.”

Fox nods. “Sir, what about the Jedi? What do we do about them?”

“They have committed treason against the Republic, Fox,” Sidious says, dropping his voice and stepping towards the clone, as though he’s imparting some grave secret. “And they must be dealt with accordingly. Justice will be swift.”

“But--the younglings, the children, what about them?” another trooper asks, and Sidious internally rolls his eyes.

“I am afraid the taint of treachery and Darkness has spread even to the younglings,” he says, somber with a hint of sorrow, as though he regrets it. “It grieves me deeply to say this, but the entire Order must be wiped out, exterminated like the plague upon society it has become.” He puts just enough of the Force behind his words to makes the troopers agree, without being enough for them to notice his influence. “But enough of this talk! I must hurry--I have to speak to the Senate before the Jedi move to silence me.”

…

Sidious has his lightsaber secure in the hidden pocket within his sleeve, and a holoprojector with executive codes that will transport to the in-helmet comms of every clone trooper when he gives the order: he expects the Jedi to challenge him while he’s in the Senate, of course, and he will easily be able to turn that move against them.

The Senate chamber is  _ full _ of Senators, of course, and Sidious even spies Duchess Satine Kryze, the speaker for the Alliance of Neutral Systems and Duchess of Mandalore, standing with Senators Amidala and Organa in one of the repulsorpods. That is an interesting alliance, he thinks; Senator Mothma of Chandrila is almost certainly also a part of that group, too. He’ll have to keep an eye on them, perhaps have them disposed of.

Sidious strides into the the chamber, makes for the center, where the Speaker is, his troops escorting him. His entrances causes an instant stir in the gathered Senators, of course; he smiles privately, testing the ambient Force of the huge auditorium, finding the emotional climate to be nearly perfect for what he intends to do. He ascends to the central podium, speaks into the microphone, already beginning to subtly influence the emotional state of the Senators to the most useful state.

“Honored delegates of Republic-allied worlds, I apologize for my interruption, but I am the bearer of urgent news. As you all are aware, some two months ago I, former Supreme Chancellor of this grand Republic, was wrongfully imprisoned by the Jedi, accused of crimes against this establishment. I have managed to win my freedom for long enough to bring you the dreadful news that the Jedi have  _ betrayed _ the Republic! The Jedi Council is planning to take over the Republic, and when I discovered this nefarious plot, they manufactured evidence accusing me of dreadful treachery, in order to silence me before I could warn you, honored delegates! I come before you today, not as your Supreme Chancellor, but as a humble fugitive; my standing in society may have changed drastically, but I have not lost the burning desire to protect the freedom of the thousands of systems who look to the Republic for protection, and this is why I risk my life to come before you. It is likely the Jedi already know I am here, and are on their way here even now, that they might silence me. But I say this to you, honored delegates: I  _ will not  _ be silenced! Justice cannot be muted, and she cries out for the blood of the treasonous Jedi Order! For speaking out against the tyranny of Grand Master Yoda and his Council, I fully expect I will lose my life, but that is a sacrifice I make willingly, yes,  _ eagerly, _ that my words might live on in your voices, that the Republic might yet retain its freedom!”

A repulsorpod zips out into the open space, and the Senator on it shouts, “What are you proposing we do? We are no match for the power of the Jedi!”

Sidious nudges the Force a bit more, lightly tugs on the fear, the desire for vengeance, bringing it to the forefront. “Fear not, Senator--the Jedi are powerful, but they are  _ not _ immortal, and I swear to you the Grand Army of the Republic is standing by, prepared to extinguish this treacherous flame before the fire burns the entire Republic to ashes. They only await my orders.”

Another repulsorpod moves out. Amidala. “Senators, I beg you, do not make an immature decision! We have yet to see evidence of this supposed treason! Have you forgotten how the Jedi have lost the most in this war, more than anyone else besides the clones? The Jedi have always been staunch allies and supporters of the Republic and our commitment to the ideals of freedom and peace. Honored delegates, members of the Senate, if we allow this  _ atrocity, _ this  _ genocide, _ to occur, we are betraying our own Constitution! This is not  _ justice, _ this is a  _ massacre!” _

“I concur with Senator Amidala,” calls Mon Mothma, toggling her own repulsorpod out into the floor. “Where is this evidence? Senators, listen to me: this is not  _ freedom. _ This is fear!”

The floor dissolves into chaos, arguing, some applause, and Sidious tests the Force again. There are Force-signatures approaching at high speed, and he smiles. Excellent--all the threads are coming together. “Senators,  _ please!” _ he shouts, Forcing them to listen to him. “The Senators from Chandrila and Naboo are well within right and reason to request evidence. If it is evidence you wish for, Senator Amidala, Senator Mothma, I give you evidence!”

He gestures to the main entrance to the Senate chamber just as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Ahsoka Tano sprint in, lightsabers ignited, followed by Captain Rex and Commander Cody and other clones. There are cries of horror, fear, panic around the chamber as what appears to be the entire 212th and 501st battalions enter the chamber from different points, blasters up, forming a perimeter.

“Do you believe me  _ now, _ Senators?” Sidious shouts, spreading his arms wide. “See how the Jedi seek to cover up their tracks--but it is  _ too late!” _

_ “Execute the traitors!” _ someone shouts, and they are echoed by cries from all around the Senate chamber.  _ “Kill the Jedi!” _

“Sheev Palpatine,” Kenobi shouts, his voice Force-amplified, and he, Skywalker, Tano, and Rex take over a repulsorpod and move out into the air, “by the authority invested in me as a member of the High Council of the Jedi Order, I, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, place you under arrest for charges of treason, resisting arrest, conspiring with the enemy, possession of unsanctioned weapons, breaking the Constitution of the Republic, and being a Sith Lord actively in use of the Dark Side of the Force. Know that anything you say can and  _ will _ be used against you in a court of law--”

Sidious just sighs, shakes his head. “So it’s treason, then,” he says softly, though the microphone picks up his voice and makes it echo all around the chamber. And he pulls out the holoprojector, activates it, and when he speaks he makes certain he’s also speaking into the microphone. “Clone troopers of the GAR, the time has come,” and he feels the padawan, Tano,  _ scream _ a warning into the Force, so loud and strong anyone with a shred of Force-sensitivity will hear, but she is  _ too late, _ and he smiles quietly. “Execute Order Sixty-Six.”

~~~

Rex can’t  _ move _ , he  _ can’t _ , won’t, is afraid if he does it will be to turn his blasters on his Jedi, afraid if he breaks the stillness he’ll hear  _ good soldiers follow orders _ again and he can only reach desperately for Ahsoka’s thoughts so if it happens she can pull him back; his whole squad is frozen too but.

But Cody isn’t, his  _ ori’vod _ isn’t, and he moves swiftly, easily, with all his usual control, bringing his blaster pistol to bear on General Kenobi and no one has time to stop his finger from tightening around the trigger, the blaster bolt from shining blue for a harsh second before it sears into Kenobi’s back, perfectly between his shoulder blades and for a moment. Rex doesn’t.  _ Move _ .

And then the ice cracks and the fear solidifies into horrible certainty and Rex’s squad, most of his battalion,  _ moves _ because the 212th has their blasters turned on their Jedi and Kenobi has crumpled to the floor and someone is screaming, too many people are screaming, and Ahsoka and Anakin aren’t going to be fast enough to block all the blaster bolts so his battalion bursts into motion, forms a guard around them, and Rex sets his blaster to stun to shoot Cody because his  _ vod _ shows no signs of snapping out of it and Rex yanks off his own helmet (tactically unwise but perhaps it will help).

“Get out of the way,” Cody growls, and Rex gives a hand signal for more of his squad to help him cover his Jedi.

He knows they all have their blasters set to stun already, so he holds up two fingers from his DC-17, prepares to give the order to fire. Cody doesn’t wait for him, fires at Anakin, but Fives lunges into the path of the bolt, takes it in the collarbone with a cry, and Rex drops his fingers.

His squad fires as one, and Cody drops to the floor in a clatter of armor.

“Protect the Jedi at all costs,” Rex says to his battalion, knows he hardly has to. “But shoot to stun.”

Anakin drags General Kenobi into the middle of their squad, eyes wild. “Where’s Kix?”

Kix switches his saber off (Rex hadn’t even noticed him get it out but he’s glad he did) and rushes over to crouch by Kenobi, and Rex thinks he looks lost and out of his depth. “Protect him, Kix, help him if you can,” Anakin says fiercely. “I’m going after the Chancellor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rex doesn’t have time to reassure Kix like he wants to because his men all around the Senate chambers are shooting each other, and the ones who didn’t obey the order are being killed, and that is his priority now - that and protecting civvies. He doesn’t give himself space to be afraid for his Jedi, he can’t.

He grabs Fives’ arm, says, “Can you fight?”

“Yeah,  _ vod _ .”

“Alright.” That has to be enough. “I’m leaving you and the rest of my squad to protect Kix and Kenobi, and watch their backs,” he gestures to Anakin and Ahsoka rushing towards the Chancellor’s podium. Fives nods. “The rest of you, with me!” he shouts, and breaks into a run, knows they’ll follow. They have to protect their  _ vod’e _ , have to subdue them all as fast as they can so they can focus on the  _ Sith _ .

There is no alternative.

~~~

Caleb Dume, Jedi Padawan, is thoroughly  _ tired _ of fighting. For one, they go to all these different planets--like this one, Kaller--and all they ever do is  _ blast droids, _ which is  _ easy _ and also  _ boring _ and he really just wants to learn  _ everything _ he can about the planets. Who  _ cares _ about a war? 

Master Billaba, he thinks, feels the same way, but she’s told him, very sternly, that this is their mandate right now, and they have to obey it. And then she scolds him when he sulks about it. He can’t  _ help _ sulking, though--even if Commander Grey and Captain Styles find it funny.

They’re sitting around their camp on Kaller, after  _ finally _ ending the battle, and Master Billaba is telling some story about  _ him _ as a youngling, and he groans, because  _ why does she always have to do that? _ It’s  _ embarrassing. _

And then the Force  _ screams _ with warning, so loud Caleb instinctively claps his hands over his ears, though he knows that won’t help.

Master Billaba looks  _ terrified, _ and also… accepting? He doesn’t understand. “Master, what’s wrong--”

And then Commander Grey starts swearing. “General, the order--”

“I know,” she says calmly, and she stands, ignites her slim green lightsaber blade. “Take your  _ vod’e _ who are free and run, Commander. That is an order. Protect Caleb.”

“I can protect myself!” Caleb protests, standing and igniting his blue lightsaber. “What’s  _ wrong?” _

And then the Force  _ twists, _ inverting upon itself in utter turmoil, and Caleb is  _ drowning _ in screams and  _ pain, _ so so much pain, someone--many someones--dying--Jedi dying--and there’s pain stabbing into is chest, his head, his back, his whole body, and someone’s screaming (it’s him) and--and--

_ Caleb! _

He reaches for his Master’s voice, terror and screams and anguish flowing through him like blood.  _ Master! Master, help, help, help me please-- _

_ Caleb,  _ **_run!_ **

He  _ can’t. I won’t leave you, Master! Please, I don’t  _ **_understand,_ ** _ don’t make me go-- _

The battalion is advancing, blasters firing, and his Master is blocking the bolts but she can’t do this for  _ long _ and--and--

“Commander, come  _ on,” _ Grey shouts, and Caleb shakes his head.

“I can’t, I can’t, she  _ needs me--” _

“I’m  _ sorry _ for this, Commander,” Captain Styles says, and before Caleb has time to react a stun pulse slams into him, and the last thing Caleb feels is endless  _ agony _ as his Master dies, riddled with blaster bolts, and the bond between them  _ snaps _ and leaves behind a gaping hole in his mind, jagged-edged and bleeding.

And the Force just keeps  _ screaming. _

~~~

All Kix feels is  _ pain  _ and screaming, so much that he can’t  _ see _ for the images flashing across his field of vision and the pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn’t know what it  _ means _ except that there’s so much  _ loss _ and he was supposed to- supposed to- he doesn’t  _ know _ and then there’s another wave of agony so intense he retches, doubles over and shuts his eyes against an onslaught of images, his  _ vod’e _ lost and dying and so many  _ wounds _ that his mind clings to, tries to categorize, and it’s like the whole galaxy is  _ burning _ and shattering and the Force is wailing in his head because this isn’t  _ right _ .

He grabs onto something, somebody’s hand, he thinks, feels his nails digging into skin and some tiny part of him is trying to tell him to breathe slower, to find a rhythm and get his breath back but, but it all  _ hurts _ and he can barely breathe at all, much less try to calm himself, and he doesn’t even know where he is and he feels like his heart is stopping, like he’s been shot, he thinks, but he can’t have been, he would have noticed, and still part of him is saying he should slow down and put his head between his knees and  _ breathe _ .

The Force doesn’t answer him when he reaches for it, it’s just full of screaming, and he’s alone in the middle of all this pain- but the hand he’s clinging to is an anchor, just enough, holds him connected to something other than the images. (His  _ vod’e _ shooting to kill, crying, panic in their thoughts, only to be cut down themselves and the Jedi they were trying to defend standing alone, as good as helpless. A  _ vod’s _ thoughts full of  _ good soldiers follow orders _ while something stifling and lost and alone screams  _ please no not this _ .  _ Cody _ reaching desperately to hang onto himself, but he just  _ can’t _ and he shoots Kenobi and he’s  _ screaming  _ and crying and incoherent because he's  _ killed his Jedi _ but it doesn’t matter because he’s served his purpose.) Kix can’t do anything to help them, can only cling onto the hand he’s holding (Jesse, it’s Jesse) and swallow back sick and bile. 

Kenobi. He… Cody shot Kenobi. He was supposed to-  _ a padawan screaming for his Master, who’s lying dead on the ground _ \- he was supposed to help Kenobi. Protect him. He tightens his hand around Jesse’s, so hard he feels bones grinding and that’s too much, he should let go because he’s carving into Jesse’s hand and he, he doesn’t… He has to help.

He reaches for the Force again, and it’s not  _ listening _ to him, not answering, so he just latches onto the power and draws it into himself (and something reminds him  _ not too much _ ), forces his eyes open, tries to drive away all the images. (He feels a stab of pain and terror and it belongs to the Duchess, icy and terrified and  _ not him, please, don't take him from me, _ and loss and horror and he wants to tell her  _ he’s not dead _ .) He reaches out, finds Kenobi’s wrist and feels for a pulse, struggles to stay  _ focused _ on this, on healing, on  _ protecting _ , on not drowning in all the screaming. The General is alive, like he thought, but the Force tells him  _ not long _ so he focuses on the power and the injury and starts knitting things back together, shifting muscle and tissue where it needs to be, and he doesn’t know how to do this, this is so  _ bad _ , but it’s a surgery and it brings him focus, surety, a way to shield against the pain. He can  _ finally _ ease his grip on Jesse’s hand.

~~~

When Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan  _ finally _ come sprinting into the Senate chamber, lightsabers glowing in their hands, backed by the entire 501st and 212th, Satine feels nothing but sweet, heady  _ relief, _ because now this nightmare will be over. A few troopers--two in 501st blue, two in 212th orange--take up a position just outside the repulsorpod she’s sharing with Padmè and Bail Organa, and she nods at them, grateful. They nod back, train their blasters on the Chancellor--

And then the Chancellor says, the words echoing around the cavernous chamber with a strange, heavy weight, like the ponderousness of inevitability, like gravity, “Execute Order Sixty-Six.”

All around the room, clone troopers  _ freeze, _ and then--

And then--

Satine has a perfect view of the three Jedi, a perfect front-row seat (just far enough away she cannot do a  _ thing _ to help) to watch as Commander Cody raises his blaster like he’s done this his whole life (he has) and in one fluid motion he takes aim and fires, before Anakin or Ahsoka or Obi-Wan realize, and she flings her hand out as though she could  _ do something, _ but she can’t--she can’t  _ stop it _ as the trigger depresses and the blaster barks and the bolt flies blue-white and embeds itself in Obi-Wan’s back, directly between his shoulder blades.

Satine  _ screams. _

He falls.

Cody is firing at Anakin now, and the ARC trooper, Fives, jumps in the way, and she sees, vaguely, Rex’s squad stunning Cody, but she cannot take her eyes off the prone form lying unmoving on the floor, and she can’t even tell if he’s still  _ breathing. _

She thinks she might still be screaming.

Around the room, the carefully-constructed perimeter is falling apart as clones fire on each other, some with blasters set to stun, the majority with blasters set to kill, and--and--and she  _ can’t let the Jedi die, _ she has to stop this, so she spins to face the four troopers, sees one of the 212th with his blaster firing killshots, his back to her, and she  _ lunges, _ drives her heel into the back of his knee, grabs his blaster arm as he tries to turn and fire at her--forces his arm to twist and aim the blaster at the  _ other _ 212th trooper, who is also killing, and she’s  _ sobbing _ because the clone she’s fighting fires and she twists the blaster and the bolt slams home into the other one’s chest and she can’t  _ breathe, _ she can’t, she can’t, she drives an elbow into the gap between his helmet and collarbone, feels something  _ snap _ as the strike connects, and he goes  _ limp _ in her hands and she’s shaking as she pulls the blaster from his hand, tosses it at Padme, and she runs to the other dead clone (she did this, she  _ killed him) _ and grabs his blaster and sets it to stun (it doesn’t  _ matter, _ she’s  _ killed) _ and starts to run (one of the two 501st troopers is dead, the other nursing an injured arm, but he falls in behind her and Padme), because she  _ has to get to Obi-Wan. _

She aims and fires on the run, falling back on years of combat training from her early childhood, and stun pulses aren’t very effective over long distances and she knows how to snipe and so she flicks the switch back to kill and starts hitting knees, hands, shoulders, and there are tears pouring down her cheeks and she can barely see, barely breathe, and she’s dizzy and trembling but her hands are steady and for a minute she’s back on Mandalore during the war and she can’t--she doesn’t--she’s not sure where she is, her aim slips and a blaster bolt flies true and hits between the eyes and she’s screaming silently  _ (the moment we commit to fighting, we have already lost). _

She--

Someone  _ tackles _ her, knocks the blaster from her hands, and she instinctively  _ kicks out, _ feels her booted heel smash into a helmet, feels the helmet snap back, the hands around her ankles loosening, and she rolls, grabs her blaster and leaps to her feet and fires and she’s not  _ thinking _ and it takes a moment to register that she’d  _ killed him _ without even knowing if he’s friendly or not and his armor is 501st blue and she retches, dry-heaving, her breaths coming quick and short and panting, and Padmè is there somewhere shooting with precision as perfect as her hairdo, and--and she  _ can’t do this _ but she can’t  _ stop herself, _ her body reacting on instinct and training and they’re  _ dying  _ and she thinks she might faint but her body doesn’t even let her do that, and she sobs and kills and prays to the Force or whatever is listening that Obi-Wan will survive.

~~~

The bond is thrumming with a pain so intense that Rex can’t  _ focus _ \- he needs to be thinking about his men and the fight (and he stuns another squad of brothers, dives behind a column to avoid blasterfire) but Ahsoka is in  _ pain _ and he doesn’t understand because when he looks at her he doesn’t see injury and she’s moving fine. But her mind is full of distant screaming and he’s so afraid for her and that  _ can’t be priority right now. _

He sees Senator Amidala and Duchess Kryze and Senator Organa and some of the other Senators fighting and that should be good, but he can see most of them are killing his  _ vod’e _ and he understands but they're his  _ brothers _ and this isn't their  _ fault _ . He's still stunning them and that's slower going, more dangerous, but that means they'll all wake up.

“Work your way around toward the Senators!” he orders. The only goal here is subduing his brothers, but if they have somewhere to push toward, it will be easier for them to stay focused and not be overwhelmed by how  _ many _ of their  _ vod’e _ they have to fight.

Their perimeter is in shambles because every  _ vod _ that still has a chip is trying to get to Anakin and Ahsoka in the center of the chamber and they're shooting to kill. But that does mean they aren't paying enough attention to Rex’s men, so it's easier to flank them and take them out and Rex  _ knows _ they're distracted, that this is all so that the Chancellor is safe and secure and his  _ vod’e  _ are suffering because of him.

And  _ he's  _ the voice in their nightmares.

Him and the Senate, shouting  _ kill the Jedi _ and  _ execute Order Sixty-Six _ .

He shoots and his brothers fall and in the press of soldiers in blue in orange, the only thing that separates friend from foe is whether or not their  _ vod’e  _ are trying to kill them.

This is Umbara and Kamino again, this is everything he has always promised he couldn't allow to happen, and he is failing to protect his brothers and barely protecting his Jedi and he knows at  _ least _ every clone on Coruscant had to have heard the orders through the comms in their helmets and he can't help them and they'll be slaughtered for something they can't control and if he'd only made sure the chips had been removed sooner maybe this wouldn't be happening- but he can't think about that now, he just can't.

They're going to be able to do this, he thinks - it's the aftermath he's afraid of, it's the Chancellor and how many of his  _ vod’e  _ will be dead and the pain he still feels tearing at his mind through the bond. Still, he pushes forward with his squad and shoots to stun, not to kill, because  _ he's not killing more vod’e today _ . Enough of them are dying here already.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t  _ think. _

Somewhere in front of her is a cluster of  _ vod’e _ led by Commander Fox, and she  _ knows _ she and Anakin need to take them out, have to get to Sidious before he slips out, but the Force is  _ screaming _ and there’s so much  _ pain _ and she’s drowning in tears. Even with her good shielding, she can’t block out the sensations--

(A young padawan screams as his bond with his Master shatters into a thousand fragments; a Master struggles to block blaster shots from her battalion, tears streaming down her face as her loyal troopers fall one-by-one trying to protect her; a Knight she  _ knows _ is shot down in midair by the men he thought were watching his six.)

There’s so  _ much. _

(She feels every death, the Force twisting inside-out and turning in knots, shouting  _ wrong wrong wrong _ at her, and she can’t get  _ away.) _

_ Snips, focus! _ Anakin snaps, and she shudders, tries to draw away from the  _ pain _ drenching the Force, but she can’t block it out completely, just somewhat muffle it, and it’s  _ exhausting. _ Still, she  _ has _ to focus; she draws in a shaky breath, focuses on deflecting blaster bolts and  _ not killing brothers, _ even though it’d be easier, simpler, to just kill them.

“Fives!” she shouts, barely recognizes her own voice; the ARC trooper jogs up near her right side, and she deflects a blast away from him. “Get these troopers  _ down, now!” _

“Yes, sir!” he says, and gestures at the rest of the squad (except Kix, who’s with Obi-Wan, and Jesse, who refused to leave Kix’s side), and it takes  _ time _ but these are the best of the best and Commander Fox’s troops have never even been off Coruscant, and Fives is an  _ ARC trooper. _

Soon enough, only Fox himself is still protecting Sidious, and he’s  _ good _ at dodging the stun blasts. Ahsoka decides this is taking too long, and she flings one hand out and  _ shoves _ and Fox goes flying off the podium, hits the floor somewhere else, she doesn’t pay attention.

Anakin  _ launches _ himself from where he’s been fighting more  _ vod’e, _ and with a Force-augmented jump he lands on the podium next to Sidious, his blue ‘saber raised high--

The Force  _ screams _ a warning.

_ Master, watch out! _

Anakin  _ twists _ to one side, narrowly avoiding a lurid red lightsaber that would’ve  _ gutted _ him had she not warned him--Ahsoka  _ snarls _ and leaps onto the top of the podium, brings her two silver ‘sabers crashing down towards Sidious’ head, but his ‘saber flashes and blocks her and she doesn’t even  _ see _ his  hand move but she’s suddenly  _ flying _ through the air, and she hits--something, something  _ cracks, _ stars flashing in front of her eyes, and oh  _ kriff _ that hurts.

**_SNIPS!_ **

_ I’m alright, _ she tries to reassure Anakin, and she drags herself to her feet, slowly, calls her ‘sabers back to her hands. Anakin and Sidious are dueling, their lightsabers just a blur of motion, and then Sidious leaps back onto a repulsorpod. Anakin does the same, finds another pod and directs it towards Sidious--and then the Sith Lord  _ gestures _ and one of the  _ occupied _ pods slams into Anakin’s. Ahsoka  _ growls, _ throws out her hand, because the Senator in the pod is about to fall (Anakin can handle himself), and then she Force-jumps back up, lands on Sidious’ pod, throws herself into her attack again.

He’s so  _ strong. _

There’s a constant heavy, oppressing  _ Dark _ surrounding her, anger and hatred and fear weighing her down, and that combined with the way the Force is still  _ choking _ with pain makes it hard to focus, to concentrate on blocking and trading blows, but he’s so  _ fast _ and she can barely keep up, even pulling on the Force as hard as she can to keep up, to give her more speed, more strength, more balance.  _ Master, I need you! _ she calls, desperate, fending off another series of complex blows, a form she’s never  _ seen _ before.

_ Coming, Snips, _ Anakin says, and then suddenly he’s flipping up onto the pod with them, raining down blows, but Sidious doesn’t even  _ falter _ and he’s  _ laughing _ and she doesn’t understand why because it’s two-on-one and he should at least be  _ worried _ but he isn’t even winded, isn’t even  _ fazed, _ and then suddenly he extends one hand at her--she instinctively moves to counter a Force-push--

And then there’s just  _ pain. _

(She’s on her knees on rock and dirt, screaming until her voice gives out,  _ pain _ like nothing she’s ever felt before stabbing through her, and she  _ wants Rex _ and she  _ wants out _ and she can’t  _ breathe _ around the collar and the whip hisses through the air and she cowers, sobs,  _ please don’t, Master, please don’t, _ begging and coughing and huddled in a tiny ball, sparks dancing across her skin, she can’t breathe, can’t  _ breathe, Rex please please make it stop it hurts I can’t--) _

~~~

The fighting around Senator Amidala and the others is  _ intense _ , but the rest of the chamber is secured and that means this is the last push before Rex can think about Ahsoka and the Chancellor. His battalion and the 212th, what’s left of them, are engaging their  _ vod’e _ on both sides and if they can just break through to the Senators, his men can worry about subduing their  _ vod’e _ and he and his squad can worry about their Jedi.

He twists out of the way of an errant blaster bolt, although it singes his pauldron, and fires back at the shooter with both DCs (and the Senators are killing his brothers and it shouldn’t matter so much right now). He sees his squad running along the length of the terrace towards them and that’s good, he wants their backup.

He snaps his attention back to the battle and shoves a  _ vod _ out of the way of a series of killshots and- and he feels a flash of pain, horribly familiar, and Ahsoka is reaching for him desperately, aching,begging him to  _ please help Rex I can't, please, _ and he whirls in place, barely notices his men closing in around him because this is  _ too familiar _ , he remembers this, and above the sounds of battle and blasterfire he hears her  _ screaming _ and for a moment he's back in the pit, seeing her writhing in the ground with a whip curled around her headtail.

_ Ahsoka! _ He reaches back across their bond for her mind and he finds her, collapsed against the side of a pod and there’s blue lightning arcing from the Chancellor’s fingers and Anakin looks like a madman but he can’t get past the Chancellor’s guard and Rex  _ can’t reach her _ and it’s all happening again and he can’t  _ move _ , can’t breathe because, because-

_ They’ve pinned him to the ground, a staff digging into the small of his back and it all hurts and his body won’t respond and she’s  _ **_screaming_ ** _ and he’s failing her- _

Rex drags himself out of the memory with a harsh effort, lifts his blasters again, not sure what he’s going to do, only that he has to  _ help _ , but then Ahsoka’s pain subsides fast, the relief almost as intense as the agony, and Rex looks up to see that Anakin has managed to get between the Chancellor and Ahsoka, his saber up, blocking the electricity, and he nudges Ahsoka’s mind and feels her respond.

That has to be good enough, he has to fight. Has to. He shrugs off one of his brothers’ hand and straightens, pushes back to the front of their line. They’re so close, they just need to do this.  _ Please be safe, Soka _ , he thinks, tastes electricity on his tongue and feels a twinge of pain in old scars.  _ Please _ .

~~~

Kato  _ freezes, _ when the order first sounds; only about half of the 327th has had their chips out, but General Secura had taken the mission to Felucia  _ anyway, _ even though Commander Bly still has  _ his _ chip in and really they should wait until their Commander at least is free. 

But the Council had asked, and General Secura had accepted, and honestly, the 327th is plenty good for this mission--

At least, until the order comes over their helmet comms.

Kato isn’t  _ new _ to the battalion, but he’s not ranking at all; still, when he starts motioning at his  _ vod’e _ without chips, they all form up on him without question. “What do we do, Kato?” one of the shinies asks, and Kato swallows, because how is  _ he _ supposed to know the answer to that question?

But he has to answer, so… “We find the General,” he says shortly, and the shiny nods.

“Right, Kato, let’s go.”

Kato jogs through the thick Felucia underbrush (seriously, all this plant life is  _ ridiculous, _ both their own battalion and the Separatist droids are having trouble in it, why the kriff does anyone even want this stupid planet), blasters out; he motions his squad forward, ducks around the edge of one of those stupid frilly tree-things, and--almost  _ slams _ into his General. Her lightsaber is out and her eyes are wild and she almost cuts him in half before he raises his hands quickly. “Woah there, General, we’re clean!”

“I can’t do this for long,” she says, and she’s shaky and scared and Kato has  _ never _ seen General Secura like this before.

“Blasters set to stun, everybody,” he calls, adjusting his own. “We’ll help, General, we’ve got your six, just get to a ship. We need to abandon this mission and get the kriff  _ off this rock _ if we’re going to survive--”

“I know that, Kato, thank you,” and Secura’s blue lightsaber snaps up and deflects another blaster bolt into the trooper that’d fired it. “We must hurry.”

Kato  _ tries _ not to focus on the fact that his General has just  _ killed vod’e, _ because you can’t set a lightsaber to stun and she’s got to protect herself  _ somehow, _ but those are his  _ brothers _ and it’s not  _ their fault _ they’ve still got a chip in their heads, kriffing Council didn’t give them enough  _ time! _ He takes a careful breath, fires a stun pulse at one of the  _ vod’e _ following them--

“Kato, you  _ do _ realize that leaving them here unconscious on a Separatist-occupied world is a death sentence, right?” Secura glances back at him, her face mostly unreadable, though her  _ lekku _ are writhing in complicated patterns and he  _ really _ wishes he could understand what they’re communicating.

“I  _ know _ that,” he snaps out, too tense to bother with protocol, “but what choice do we have, General?”

She nods, looks away. “I know.”

They round another one of those tree-things, and Kato jerks his blasters up because there’s  _ vod’e _ there, but Secura is faster, deflecting  _ every single bolt _ shot at them back into his brothers, and--and he  _ swears, _ because this isn’t  _ good, _ they’re  _ dying _ and he can’t--

Suddenly, Secura  _ staggers _ and falls to her knees, her ‘saber falling from her hands as she raises them to her temples, curling over herself. Kato jams his blasters into their holsters, orders his men to form a perimeter with hand signals, and he crouches down beside her because if they don’t have their Jedi they’ll  _ never _ get out of here. “General? What’s wrong?”

“I can  _ feel it,” _ she whispers, and her voice is  _ so faint _ and he swallows back more swearing. “They’re  _ dying, _ Kato, so much  _ pain, _ I can’t--”

He hesitantly puts his hands on her shoulders, squeezes a bit. “What is it you always tell us, General, about staying focused on the present?”

“We must--remain in the here-and-now,” she manages, and he nods.

“Yeah, that. Look, General, the here-and-now is that we’re all going to  _ die _ if we don’t stay  _ focused, _ and we can fall apart once we survive this, right?” He’s  _ really kriffing bad _ at this comforting thing. “Can’t you… I don’t know, put up shields or something?”

She nods hesitantly, looks up at him with a spark of  _ strength _ in her eyes again. “Yes, of course, you’re right--”

That’s when the screams begin.

Kato  _ spins, _ pulls his blasters out as fast as he can, but he’s still  _ too slow: _ it’s Commander Bly and his squad, and Secura is on the ground and her ‘saber is still away and  _ his men _ are dying and--and (he’s failing her, his General, he  _ has _ to protect her, has to keep her alive, but he’s not  _ good enough _ and he  _ can’t do it)-- _

Kato fires, again and again, but he’s only one man against the best of his battalion; the first blaster bolt hits his knee, and he stumbles, but keeps firing anyway, presses his back to his General’s and tries to stay  _ upright _ because he  _ has to protect her, _ and it  _ hurts _ but he’s had worse, he’ll be alright.

The second shot slams home into his stomach and this time he can’t quite keep his feet, and he  _ staggers _ and he’s falling and a lightsaber hisses over his head, deflects another shot, and he’s  _ trying _ to get to his feet but there’s another impact in his right shoulder and he can’t  _ breathe, _ his lungs won’t  _ work, _ but he can still  _ shoot _ and so he does, he flips his blaster off stun and starts firing, one-two-three-four, and then there’s  _ more pain _ somewhere in his left hand and his fingers are  _ screaming _ but he clenches the mangled remains of his gauntlet around his blaster anyway and keeps firing,  _ keeps firing, protect the General, _ and he can’t quite see through the spots in his vision and so he reaches up with his better hand (his shoulder is  _ agony) _ and pulls off his helmet, and that helps a little but not much, and the General  _ needs his help _ so he somehow jams his right hand into the ground and  _ forces _ himself upright, shoots a clone between their eyes--

“Kato,  _ down!” _

He  _ drops _ on instinct (some distant part of him thinks there was more than a little Force-suggestion in that order, but he can’t quite block it out right now), and dizziness makes the world  _ spin _ but he can still see the General taking the shot meant for him in the chest and he  _ screams, _ drags himself halfway-sitting up, fires again and again and again, and his General is on one knee barely able to keep deflecting bolts and he’s  _ failing her _ and he can’t--he  _ can’t do this. _

“General!” He means the word to be a shout, but a bolt buries itself in the leg he’s kneeling on and it’s more a whimpering scream of raw  _ pain _ tearing itself out of his throat.

“You’ve done well, Kato,” she says, soft, and blocks another bolt, and he fires again and his aim is wildly off and  _ kriff this! _ “Very--well,” and he thinks another shot must make it past her guard because she sucks in a sharp, awful breath and he  _ swears _ and tries to take out Commander Bly but he  _ can’t _ because there’s another shot that brushes so close to his head he  _ feels _ the heat on his ear and then he can’t  _ hear _ and there’s a yelp of pain and--

No!

It should’ve killed him, but instead it slammed into the General’s spine and _now_ she falls, her ‘saber hits the ground with an _audible_ _thunk_ and he tries to raise his hand to fire but there’s another bolt and another and another and _so much pain_ and the last thing he knows is that he’s _failed._

~~~

Brii hadn’t been there on Kamino when the chips activated the first time. He’s been grateful for that many times, when his  _ vod’e _ talk about it. He never wanted to see those chips in action, never wanted to have to face that.

He never wanted to fight his brothers again either, but he is today. And this is worse than he’d ever thought - he’s never seen  _ vod’e _ with such blank eyes, so little expression, and it feels like a nightmare come to life, like the dream he has where Stiff and his other dead brothers come for him because it’s his fault and he’s the one who killed them.

But today he isn’t killing, and he has to remember that. He isn’t killing his brothers.

He’s sticking close to Fives, because Fives is injured and Brii isn’t, so he has to watch his back, and they’ve almost gotten through to Rex and the others. He’s been told before that he hyperfocuses too much when he’s fighting, and he can’t help falling into that a little, all his senses concentrated on the blaster in his hands and the decision of  _ enemy or friend _ . Staying close to Fives also means he doesn’t have to think about where to go; he just follows his squad and shoots with an artist’s precision, smooth and direct and as practiced as if he’s done this for years (although he hasn’t).

Tup grabs his elbow and yanks him out of it, snaps his fingers by his face. “Brii, you gotta pay attention. Come on.”

There’s a break in the line of opponents, and Brii realizes they can get through to the group of Senators, who are… who… “They’re killing us,” Brii says softly, and Tup scowls but pushes him forward.

“I know,  _ vod _ .”

“Tup, they  _ can’t _ ,” Brii says, and he knows his  _ ori’vod _ knows, but nobody’s stopping them and the troopers around them are dying and it isn’t  _ right _ .

“I  _ know _ , kid,” Tup growls, but he’s just falling into position around the Senators with the rest of the squad and Brii knows he’s supposed to do the same but when he does he looks out at his  _ vod’e _ , attacking them, and a blaster bolt slams into a  _ vod _ in 212th orange and he falls and Brii feels  _ sick _ . These are his brothers, he can’t just stand here and let them be  _ killed _ \- and another trooper takes aim at their little group but is shot between the eyes before he can fire.

And Brii  _ knows  _ these troopers will kill them and he  _ knows _ they have to protect the Senators and their Jedi, but they don’t deserve this, they don’t even know what they’re doing, and he recognizes the armor paint of Whistle, a  _ vod _ he’s done tattoos for, and he can’t let them hurt him or any of the others.

He’s too impulsive, he always has been - that’s his only excuse for spinning around, turning his back on the enemy and facing the Senators (people he’s not qualified to speak with, at all), and  _ shouting at them _ . “Stop firing! You have to stop firing, please!”

“The  _ kriff _ ,  _ vod! _ ” Tup shouts, shoves him into the circle towards the Senators so he doesn’t get killed. Brii ignores whatever his friend says next, runs to a Rodian senator and grabs his arm even though he knows that’s too familiar but it doesn’t  _ matter _ because they’re killing his  _ vod’e _ .

“You need to set your blaster to stun, please, you can’t kill them!”

The Senator shakes off his hand, shoots him a  _ look _ . “That’s not an option, clone. They’re trying to kill us.”

Brii staggers a little, shakes his head. “You  _ have to _ !”

The Senator  _ ignores _ him, keeps shooting, and Brii shakes his head, stumbles back, searching frantically for someone who’ll listen to him. There’s Senator Amidala, he’s at least  _ seen _ her before- but then he sees familiar bright blond hair and he recognizes the Duchess Satine. She’d fixed up his wounds in the med bay, he knows her, she’ll listen to him, and he runs to her, ignores Tup shouting at him to  _ get back to his squad _ .

“Duchess!” He’s shouting long before he even gets to her, and she doesn’t even seem to notice him, she’s just aiming and firing and he reaches for her arm, grabs her elbow and she yanks away from him, flinching, and she’s  _ crying _ . “Duchess, please, you can’t shoot my brothers.”

For a moment he doesn’t even think she recognizes he’s not an enemy, so he yanks off his helmet and drops it on the floor, reaching automatically for her blaster. She pulls it out of his reach and lifts it, fires at a  _ vod _ from the 212th and the bolt destroys his blaster. He keeps coming anyway and Brii goes for the blaster again because she’ll  _ kill him _ and she isn’t  _ listening _ .

“Please!” he says, desperately, and she finally actually  _ looks _ at him, and she looks lost and scared and her eyes are a little unfocused and he just has to convince  _ someone _ , anyone.

“I’m not fast enough on stun,” she says softly, and it scares him how hoarse her voice is, how much she’s crying. He’s choking on his own tears and he just wants them to stop, wants to save his  _ vod’e _ and end this nightmare and that means making her  _ listen _ . “I’m sorry, I don’t want to, but I  _ have to _ .”

“They don’t know what they’re doing, Duchess,  _ please _ . You can’t kill them, this isn’t their fault!”

“I  _ know _ ,” she says, and she takes aim at the trooper whose blaster she destroyed and Brii barely stops himself from tackling her.

“Please,” he says, desperate, pleading. “Please, you  _ can’t _ , they’re my  _ brothers _ .”

She’s breathing too fast and he doesn’t know what he’s doing but he has to  _ fix this _ .

“I can’t let them kill anyone else.” She’s almost whispering. “They already killed Obi, I can’t-”

“We can stop them without killing, just  _ stop _ , just…” Brii doesn’t have the right  _ words _ and his  _ vod _ is still advancing on them, all their attackers are, and the Duchess looks so  _ lost _ but then she seems to focus on something, realize something, and her hands shake a little and she seems to shrink, her shoulders curling forward, and breathes a name, choked.

“ _ Click. _ ”

Brii takes the moment to pivot, tries to hold his hand as steady on his blaster as he can, and fires three pulses at his  _ vod _ ; two of them connect and he pitches to the ground. Then Brii reaches for the Duchess again, grabs her arm. “ _ Please, _ please, Duchess,  _ enough _ , please.”

And she finally seems to  _ listen _ ; she swallows convulsively once, takes a few heaving breaths, and when she raises her blaster again for a moment he’s  _ panicked _ because it hasn’t worked, he’s failed, she hasn’t set it to stun and-

She shoots the blasters out of three of his brothers’ hands before he can even  _ open his mouth _ , and he almost forgets to fight himself because it’s… it’s  _ incredible _ , and she’s hardly even pausing, just destroying their blasters and hardly needing to move, just turning on the balls of her feet and twisting her wrist and Brii has seen only a few soldiers with that level of precision.

She’s not killing his  _ vod’e _ anymore. She listened to him and some of them are still shooting to kill but he did this, he saved these brothers. He raises his own blaster and falls in next to her, shoots his  _ vod’e _ , doesn’t kill them. Not today, not again.

~~~

Padmè is screaming  _ terror _ in the back of Anakin’s mind, bloody and sharp-edged and entirely relegated to one small corner of her consciousness; she’s  _ alive, _ though, that fear means she’s still breathing, and Anakin clings to that knowledge and tries to breathe through the  _ rage _ pouring through him.

Ahsoka is still trembling from the aftereffects of that much lightning in her system, though she’s wielding her silver blades with nearly as much strength and speed as usual. She’s  _ dazed, _ though, something  _ unfocused _ in her blue eyes, and that would  _ terrify _ him if he let himself think about it. Instead, he focuses on his anger, stokes it, commands the Force to give him  _ more, _ more speed, more strength, more energy, more balance, and he leaps from repulsorpod to repulsorpod after Palpatine, snarling, his lightsaber bright blue in his hands, the centerpoint of his power.

_ (This weapon is your life.) _

Palpatine is  _ so good _ it’s  _ insane; _ Anakin  _ knows _ he’s one of the best lightsaber duelists in the Order, and he’s  _ still _ barely keeping up alone--he thinks most of the other Jedi would be dead by now, wishes he had backup in the form of Master Windu or Obi-Wan (and he  _ cannot think about _ his Master right now) or kriffing  _ Yoda, _ as annoying as the little green troll is.  _ Someone. _ Someone who  _ isn’t _ his young, fierce,  _ anguished _ padawan. (Ex-padawan?)

Ahsoka flips over the edge of another pod, shoves the edge of it into the pod that he and Palpatine are fighting on, and she twirls her ‘sabers and slashes out and Anakin strikes at the same time and Palpatine only has one ‘saber, he can’t block them both at the same time--

And suddenly, Anakin’s lightsaber is crashing into  _ Ahsoka’s ‘sabers, _ and Palpatine is driving his red blade towards Ahsoka’s side, and Anakin  _ swears, _ disengages from his padawan and desperately blocks the lightsaber. How the  _ kriff _ can  _ one man _ be this kriffing  _ good? _

“I feel the hatred within you,” Palpatine says. “Use it, Anakin, use its power!”

And for a moment, just for a moment, Anakin  _ considers it. _ (He’s not strong enough this way, the Light isn’t enough--)

_ Ani, no! _

And his wife  _ screams _ in his head, fills him to the brim with love and strength and warmth and compassion,  _ kindness, _ and it’s like she’s smiling at him in that way that makes him  _ melt _ every time, and the hatred’s grasp on his mind is broken, blown away like it’s  _ nothing, _ and Anakin takes a deep breath and he  _ smiles. _ “I’m  _ not Falling, _ you kriffing  _ di’kut!” _

He doesn’t think Palpatine actually  _ knows _ what the Mando’a word means.

Anakin  _ lunges _ again, and the anger still rages through his veins but he can  _ think, _ now, he can move with grace instead of raw force, can twist and turn and flip through the moves of Ataru and Djem So mixed together, and he throws in some random twists and maneuvers from the other forms too, and suddenly he can  _ hold his own. _ He can’t  _ overpower _ Palpatine, of course not, he doesn’t think  _ anyone _ could by themselves, but the Sith Lord is--not quite  _ struggling, _ but…

And Palpatine  _ knows it. _

A wave of raw Force slams into Anakin, knocks him off his pod, and he barely manages to Force-pull another pod underneath him to catch his fall--but he’s quite a bit lower now, almost even with the low terrace where his men have reached the Senators and are stunning the last of the  _ vod’e _ with chips. He hits the pod  _ hard, _ hard enough he sees stars, and something  _ cracks _ in his chest--kriff, probably ribs, Kix is going to be  _ so annoyed-- _ and he can’t quite catch his breath; he manages to drag himself to his feet, glances at his men again--Rex is watching him, and Anakin tosses him a halfhearted, sloppy salute, sways a little because his  _ head hurts _ and he’s kriffing  _ dizzy _ and this is  _ so stupid. _

And then Ahsoka’s  _ screaming _ in his mind again, and he  _ swears, _ Forces the pod upwards, because Palpatine has Ahsoka precariously balanced on the very edge of his pod, and she’s screaming aloud too, lightning coursing over her body, and it takes all Anakin’s self-control not to just let the hatred take over because he  _ wants Palpatine dead. _

Ahsoka stays poised on the edge for a long moment, and then he sees her waver and suddenly she’s falling in slow motion, and Anakin  _ shouts _ and throws his hand out,  _ commands _ the Force to bring her to him, and at the same time he gestures with the hand holding his lightsaber and throws another pod into Palpatine. The Sith Lord leaps out of his pod, casually lands a little ways below Anakin, and Anakin deactivates his lightsaber long enough to catch Ahsoka as she tumbles into his arms. 

She’s  _ trembling _ and he doesn’t want to let her go, but he  _ has to. _ “You should stay here,” he rasps out, setting her down carefully on her feet and igniting his lightsaber again.

She shakes her head, like he’d known she’d do, and her silver ‘sabers hiss to life again. “No way, Skyguy.”

He takes a breath, counts to ten in Mando’a and then Huttese, nods once. “Don’t let him hit you again, block the lightning on your lightsaber instead.”

And then he jumps.

A part of him notices that his men have finished cleaning up the last of the  _ vod’e, _ and that the Senators are safe now, but that doesn’t  _ matter; _ what matters is that Palpatine is sending a torrent of lightning  _ at him _ and Anakin grits his teeth, yanks his ‘saber up to block it, even though it’s  _ hard. Hurry up, Snips, I can’t hold him for long! _

_ I’m coming, Master, _ and then Ahsoka lands (too heavily) on the other side of Palpatine and she cuts at him with both her ‘sabers and the lightning doesn’t even  _ slow down _ as Palpatine reverses his lightsaber and blocks her, easy, effortless. Anakin snarls out a desperate shout, wordless, his arms trembling (there’s  _ so much _ Force coming at him, so much Dark, and he can’t--he can’t--), and then he  _ shoves _ and the Force answers his call and Palpatine actually  _ staggers. _

The lightning stops.

“Do I have to do  _ everything _ myself?” he snaps out, only half-joking. “This is  _ not _ as easy as it looks, Snips!”

Ahsoka’s smile is taut and strained, and she swears in his head as Palpatine nearly shoves her off the edge of the pod.  _ I never expected to have to fight a Sith Lord on these things _ floats across the bond, a stray thought, and he can’t help but snort.

_ Neither did I. _ And then Palpatine is leaping at him again and he puts all his energy and focus into parrying, tries a few strikes of his own, but he’s getting  _ tired _ and the pace is  _ brutal _ and the Sith isn’t even  _ slowing _ and this is kriffing  _ insane.  _ “Kriff you,” he growls out, blocking a stroke with a staggering amount of sheer power behind it. “I  _ trusted _ you!”

“Of course you did,” Palpatine says gently. “Everyone did, Anakin. That was your downfall.”

_ He’s goading you, Ani, don’t lose control, _ Padmè tells him, and Anakin tightens his grip on his ‘saber and grits his teeth. 

_ I’m  _ **_trying._ **

“Good,  _ good,” _ Palpatine says suddenly, and he’s  _ smiling. _ “Let your anger give you strength, Anakin. Use it.”

“Master,  _ don’t,” _ Ahsoka says, and then Palpatine lifts his left hand and clenches his fingers and suddenly Ahsoka’s lifted up in the air, clawing desperately at her throat, her eyes bugging out, her ‘sabers forgotten on the pod’s floor.

“Do it, Skywalker,” and suddenly Palpatine’s voice is so so  _ sharp, _ “or your apprentice dies.”

_ “No, _ Anakin!” But Ahsoka’s  _ choking _ and she can barely get the words past her lips and she’s struggling and her eyes are going unfocused and he--he--

He  _ can’t do this. _

~~~

When he'd felt Ahsoka’s pain flare sharp and electric for a second time, Rex had almost screamed for her. His voice had stuck in his throat and he couldn't  _ breathe _ at all, felt it aching in his chest, and all he could think was  _ not again, please, no, no, no _ and he  _ couldn't do this _ ; he’d rushed to the edge of the terrace, half-planning to commandeer a pod and go to her because he  _ would not _ be helpless again, would not waste time here while his Jedi needed him. He'd reached desperately for her thoughts, found them in confusion, and then he’d felt and saw her  _ fall _ . And he wasn't going to be fast enough, he wasn't going to be able to help-

But the General had caught her.

So now he's trying to focus on his men, on reforming some kind of secure perimeter and maintaining a guard around the Senators, all while controlling a mounting panic. He tells his men what to do if their  _ vod’e _ wake up (“give them a blaster or something to do”), comms Jesse. “How's Kix? You both alright?” He deliberately doesn't yet focus on Anakin and Ahsoka because her movements are heavy and clumsy and her thoughts still hum with pain, and Anakin is so  _ angry _ \- which would be fine except angry fighters make mistakes and they can't afford that.

“We're okay - I don't know, Kix is concentrating really hard but I don't know if we can save him, Rex - you know Cody knows what he's doing.”

Rex taps off the comm because he looks up and sees Duchess Satine staring at him hollowly - she doesn't look good, at all, and Rex remembers she's a pacifist. Today is not a good day for her to be here.

Senator Amidala approaches him, eyes bright with terror and he can't help but glance over at the duel again because he knows she feels the same fear he does. “I can be part of the guard, Captain,” she says, holds up her blasters (one a small, sleek thing she must carry with her and one that belonged to a  _ vod _ ).

Rex just shoves her back behind his line of men, knows that shocks the other Senators. “Senator, you're staying  _ here. _ ” Lowering his voice, he adds, “I need Anakin to know you're safe.”

Senator Amidala glares at him, but he doesn't pay attention because she's staying put, and that's enough. He can hear Anakin and the Chancellor talking, something about trust and anger and Rex wants to  _ help _ .

But he doesn't really know  _ how _ (because tactically, everything he wants to try is a serious risk), but then that stops  _ mattering _ because he feels sudden pain and terror and he spins around, sprints to the edge of the terrace because his breath catches with hers but when he breathes out, she still  _ can't.  _ The Chancellor stands, arm lifted, fingers curled as if he's grasping for something he needs, and Rex’s Jedi is hanging suspended, fingers scrabbling at her scarred neck but there's nothing to fight and Rex isn't even thinking when he leaps over the terrace edge onto a pod, waves his hand and growls, “Squad, with me!” and they follow. He can feel a blur of white noise cutting off the edges of her thoughts and he  _ has to get to her _ ,  **_now_ ** . Rex scrambles with the controls of the pod because he doesn't  _ kriffing know _ how to work it but he has to get to Ahsoka; thankfully Fives pushes him out of the way and hits a button that moves them out into the air.

Rex jumps up onto the edge of the pod, finds his footing and his balance (although Fives is pushing their pod so fast it's hard to stay steady) and gets a sightline on the Chancellor. Anakin seems afraid to move, and the Chancellor turns his head and gives Rex an ironic smile, curls his fingers.

Rex’s smile is a shark’s smile, all teeth, and he raises his blasters and shoots without even  _ pausing. _ He knows his aim is good as the Chancellor flinches, yanks his arm back, and one of Rex’s shots still grazes his forearm. But it doesn't matter if it connected because he's  _ dropped Ahsoka _ and she hits the floor and Rex can feel awareness returning, can feel her scrambling to pull it together and he drops back down into his pod, sends her strength.

“Good job, Captain,” Fives says, tense, and Rex nods.

“Kriffing get us over there  _ now _ .”

~~~

Ahsoka curls on the floor of the pod, gasping, sucking in all the oxygen she can and trying to still her shaking muscles. Her ‘sabers are there, near her, and she focuses on just  _ picking them up, _ one thing at a time, and it’s  _ hard _ but she manages, clings to Rex’s mind. He’s sending her strength, and she can feel his  _ fear _ and she  _ has to get up. _

Anakin is fighting Sidious again, and she’s grateful for that, because that means the Sith’s attention is  _ not on her, _ and she’s shaking, and she  _ knows _ she shouldn’t feel like that but she almost can’t make herself attack again because she just wants to  _ hide, _ to escape his notice. There’s so much lingering  _ pain _ and she can’t quite catch her breath, keep the rhythm even; her heart is pounding and she’s dizzy and  _ scared _ and this is  _ too much, _ she’s not  _ ready _ for this, and--

Something in the room  _ shifts. _

She lifts her head, focuses with an effort on the terrace--sees the entire Council storming in with lightsabers alight,  _ finally, _ and Sidious notices it too because she sees his free hand angle changing and something in her  _ screams _ and cowers and--

_ Don’t let him hit you again, block the lightning on your lightsaber instead. _

Ahsoka jerks to her feet and snaps her ‘sabers out just in time to catch the lightning as it crackles through the air; it feels like trying to hold back an explosion, like blocking fire, and she  _ shouts _ and leans into her ‘sabers, gritting her teeth and straining against the power. (There are bruises around her neck and her throat  _ aches _ and she can’t breathe but it  _ doesn’t matter.) _

Anakin’s ‘saber is a  _ blur, _ and yet Sidious is keeping up with him so  _ easily, _ red blade flashing in lurid crimson lines across her vision, and somehow he’s still keeping up the lightning and she doesn’t  _ understand _ it, because he’s only  _ one man, _ how can he be so  _ strong? _ “Master,” she calls, warningly, hopes he’ll be able to  _ do something, _ but he  _ can’t _ and then--

And then there’s sudden blasterfire, and another repulsorpod knocks into theirs; Ahsoka  _ screams _ out a warning, “Get down!” and her men obey without question and the deflected bolts sear into the empty space where they had just been standing. And that’s hardly accomplished  _ anything, _ but at least the lightning’s stopped and she can  _ breathe _ a little and she focuses on attacking again, but she’s  _ too slow _ and Sidious keeps twisting out of the way and causing her to hit Anakin’s ‘saber, which is  _ not helpful _ and she doesn’t know what to  _ do _ and--

And suddenly Sidious throws his free hand out, and a wave of Force slams into her squad’s pod, and Ahsoka  _ snarls _ and flings herself at the Sith Lord again because he  _ will not hurt her men, _ not them, not  _ any _ of them, and she can’t let herself look for the Council again but she hopes desperately they’re on their way.

~~~

This time when Rex’s men fire on the Chancellor, they know to wait till he has his guard down, know they can't let him deflect the bolts at their Jedi like with Krell. Rex thinks they've badly damaged their pod but that will have to wait; as long as they're in the air and can reach their Jedi it'll have to do.

They drop down on Ahsoka’s shout with an ease that comes from  _ years _ under her command, and Rex hears Fives groan a little as he hits the floor of the pod. “Be  _ careful _ , Fives.”

“I know, sir.”

Ahsoka is much lighter on her feet than she should be and Rex recognizes that fluid strength and the power flowing through her mind that’s enabling it, can’t help but appreciate the dangerous light in her eyes - but it’s not  _ enough _ , she and Anakin are the best duelists he’s seen, at least, but the Chancellor doesn’t even seem bothered by his heavy robes, and it’s just one saber against two but Rex can tell he’s an  _ intelligent _ fighter, a calculating one. He curls his fingers in a hand signal and his squad gets back to their feet, aims at the Chancellor, and they just need one opening because unlike Krell, the Chancellor only has one saber and Anakin and Ahsoka are keeping him plenty busy.

Then there’s a flash of a glance at them, and Rex sees the Chancellor’s hand move suddenly in a familiar gesture, and he just has time to brace himself before a wave of force, like a wall of water, knocks into him and his squad and slams some of them into the back of the pod, he and the rest to the floor like felled trees. He keeps a death grip around his blasters, struggles to force himself back to his feet, knows his men are doing the same. Ahsoka feels  _ angry _ and he sees her redoubling her attack on the Chancellor with a speed and grace he’s only seen a few times before. He grits his teeth and presses his hands against the floor of the pod, shoves himself to his hands and knees and then upright, bringing up his blasters again. He knows he’s out of his depth and he shouldn’t  _ be here _ but they need to defend their Jedi.

Rex keeps his focus on the Chancellor, although he glances to his left and sees General Windu and Master Yoda headed for them on a pod of their own, and he can’t help a small sigh of relief because there’s no  _ way _ the Chancellor can take on all four of them. His squad forms up behind him again and he thinks he sees an opening, maybe, the Chancellor is focused on Ahsoka and her attack and Fives has a good line on him - “Fives!”

The ARC trooper sees what he sees, of course he does, and his friend fires twice, fast, and strikes the Chancellor in the hip, making him stagger. The Sith recovers faster than he should, strikes harder against Ahsoka’s guard and twists out of the way of a thrust from Anakin and Rex  _ swears _ ; the injury should have slowed him down but it just seems to have annoyed him.

Rex takes a shot himself, almost hits the Sith in the back but he manages to move so it deflects off Ahsoka’s saber instead, and then he actually  _ looks _ at them, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide whether they’re worth his effort.

It’s Brii who decides it, shoots and the bolt doesn’t connect but it does sear the sleeves of the Chancellor’s robe and clearly they’ve been enough of a nuisance, because the Chancellor twists his lips in an animal sneer and reaches out,  _ pushes _ again and Rex swears but he just can’t hold his feet, is thrown back into Tup and they hit the floor together, his head slamming hard into Tup’s pauldron. He can’t see for a second, and he suddenly feels Ahsoka  _ shout  _ in his head, a warning that echoes across their bond to  **_move._ ** He does, grabs Tup’s armor and yanks both of them to one side on instinct, feels more than sees a saber slashing into the floor where he’d just been.

He twists, fires automatically towards where he knows the Chancellor is, trying to drag himself back to his feet, and it’s hard but he blinks, focuses, has his blasters trained on the Chancellor before he even knows what’s happening.

Fives is shooting already, up on his feet, eyes dangerous, and Rex tries to fire at the Chancellor’s back so he isn’t too focused on any one of them, but it doesn’t  _ work _ because the Chancellor just slashes his saber through Fives’ blasters and in the same sweep of his weapon deflects Rex’s bolts, twists around and slams his saber through Fives’ chest while flinging out a hand,  _ pushing _ Dogma off the pod and Rex feels his heart slam painfully in his chest once, twice,  _ no no no no no _ , and he’s  _ choking _ but Brii is too close to the Chancellor so he pushes himself to swallow the horror and run, to get between them, but his men are all  _ here _ and the space is too small and so what if he’s in front of Brii, he’s no match for the Chancellor either and  _ Fives is lying on floor _ and the Chancellor reaches out again, curls his fingers into claws, and electricity arcs from them to Tup, who still hasn’t managed to stand. Rex  _ roars _ , hears Brii screaming, and it’s too much, he can’t let the bastard hurt any more of his men, and at this point he’s just shooting blindly and he thinks he’s reaching for Ahsoka.

The Chancellor’s lightning stops and he waves his hand, and their pod grinds free from Anakin and Ahsoka’s and Rex catches Ahsoka’s eyes for a second, can’t help thinking  _ please _ , and their pod lists a little to one side and drops a few feet in the air. Rex hardly knows what the Chancellor’s doing with the pod, though, because he’s turning on Tuck and Rex  _ can’t let him _ , not Tuck - he launches himself at the Sith, knows it’s stupid but he can’t see another of his  _ vod’e _ killed by that saber. He grabs his saber arm, jams his blaster into the Chancellor’s back, starts to pull the trigger but his arm is thrown to one side and the bolt flies uselessly into an empty pod.

The Chancellor doesn’t try to get  his arm free, just twirls his saber in his hand and stabs it down into Rex’s thigh and he howls, lets go and falls back to try to get some distance from that red blade - he stumbles over Fives’ body and he  _ can’t _ , can’t do this.

_ They’re coming, Rex, you just have to stay out of his way _ , Ahsoka thinks, desperate but quiet enough that it doesn’t distract him, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t have enough space to retreat and his heel finds the wall of the pod and he sees Brii moving, blaster in hand, and the kid  _ cannot _ attack the Chancellor, it’s not an  _ option _ , so Rex shoots past the Chancellor’s side, hits Brii’s knee and the kid stumbles, and he hopes he can hold the Chancellor’s attention long enough for  _ someone _ to get there but Brii is trying to get back to his feet and Rex needs him to  _ stay down _ and his leg  _ burns _ and he should be paying more attention to the Chancellor, not that it will do him any good - he fires fast with both blasters, one-two-three-four, and the Chancellor deflects his bolts, one of them into his shin and he shouts because it  _ hurts _ and he’s not prepared for this and

The saber moves fast, smooth, brutal, and Rex can’t even  _ register _ for a moment, there’s no pain right away and he doesn’t quite  _ understand _ except the vibrant red blade is sticking out of his stomach and then it feels like his insides  _ ignite _ , and the world turns ashen around the edges and he can’t hold onto his blasters anymore, reaches for Palpatine’s wrist, the hilt of the saber, to  _ get it out _ , but he doesn’t have the strength and there’s  _ screaming _ in the back of his mind and he doesn’t know where  _ her _ pain ends and his begins but he can’t get enough breath to make a sound. Then the red blade pulls free of his stomach with a twist and he  _ gasps _ and it  _ burns _ , he can’t even  _ think _ , and he collapses on himself like he’s breaking in half, doesn’t even know when he hits the floor because it already  _ hurts _ so much and he’s dimly aware of Palpatine looking down at him with  _ disdain _ , shaking his head, of a voice (it’s Palpatine’s voice, he thinks, his mouth is moving) saying, “What a waste” and he doesn’t know, he thinks he has to  _ get up _ , someone  _ needs him _ , but he can’t kriffing move and he’s choking and he  _ can’t _ , it’s all vague and fuzzy and lost.

His hand finds something, someone’s arm, he thinks, and he grabs on, clings to that anchor point as the world turns white.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're usually a couple chapters ahead, but due to my trip to Canada--which, long story short, i wasn't allowed on the plane so i had to drive 11 hours and 620 miles by myself, 'twas fun--we're literally _just_ starting the next chapter, so...

Ahsoka  _ tries _ to get her troops, her squad, to  _ back off _ when they start firing on Sidious; she  _ knows _ this can only turn bad, but they don’t  _ listen, _ maybe don’t even hear her. She redoubles her attack on the Sith Lord, but she’s too  _ angry _ and she’s  _ hurting _ and  _ scared _ and she slips up, makes a mistake, and there’s a line of fire burning down the outside of her left arm and the Force slams into her, sends her tumbling to her knees, and a part of her distantly registers that Anakin’s taken a ‘saber to the knee and he’s staggering, and then Sidious  _ shoves _ and she feels the Force respond and her men go flying like discarded toys and she  _ screams _ in Rex’s mind because Sidious is  _ leaping _ across the space between the two pods, ‘saber arcing in a dangerous strike down to embed itself in the floor of the pod. She forces herself to her feet, swaying a little, the world going white-noise staticky around the edges, and tries to bridge the gap between the pods but she  _ can’t _ because her squad’s pod is screeching with the groaning of metal collapsing, durasteel grinding against durasteel, stabbing through her montrals, and she gasps in a breath and  _ reaches _ because she  _ has to get there _ and Fives is standing, firing, precise and accurate and fire in his eyes and--

And then Sidious  _ moves _ and Fives’ face goes pale and he looks down and Ahsoka follows his gaze to see the lurid red blade sprouting from his chest and his mouth gapes a little, almost comical, and she’s  _ screaming _ and so is Anakin, she thinks, struggling to try and get to his feet, and then Fives  _ falls _ and Sidious turns back to her with a smirk on his face and he says, “Oh,  _ good, _ Padawan,” and the hatred burning a hole through her chest  _ rages _ and she can’t--she can’t--she wants to  _ wipe _ that smirk off his face but the pod falls more and she’s powerless to stop it. “Do you feel the hatred?”

And it’s  _ Dogma _ who’s flung off the side of the pod, slamming into the floor far below with a sickening  _ snap _ and she makes to leap the distance without thinking but a  _ wall _ of Force throws her back against the far wall of her pod again, and she can’t  _ breathe, _ it’s too much, too much, she’s screaming and sobbing and choking and she just wants this to  _ stop. _

By the time she manages to get back to her feet again, swaying dizzily, stars flashing in front of her vision, Rex is bodily  _ attacking _ Sidious, trying to fire into his spine, and she tries to reach out but the Force  _ refuses, _ she’s been drawing too much on it and her head  _ aches _ and there’s ozone on her tongue and her teeth tingle from electricity and she can’t  _ watch this, _ but she can’t move and Sidious’ lightsaber stabs deep into Rex’s thigh and she  _ lunges, _ but a wave of the Sith’s hand and she’s  _ slamming _ into the wall again, and she gasps and reaches for Rex, says desperately,  _ They’re coming, Rex, you just have to stay out of the way, _ because Master Windu and Master Yoda are on their way in a repulsorpod and Windu looks  _ angry _ and Yoda is--she’s not sure, he never has  _ emotions, _ but… she thinks he might be  _ angry, _ too. 

Rex is back firing again, and Ahsoka manages to struggle to her feet, shaking the cobwebs from her brain as best she can, and there’s  _ horror _ thick and choking in her throat because one of the bolts deflects into his shin and he’s staggering and Sidious is  _ moving _ and--

And--

**_NO!_ **

She  _ screams, _ loss and pain and  _ rage _ and terror all coalescing into a roaring inferno in her blood, as Sidious’ lightsaber buries itself deep within Rex’s stomach, and there’s  _ pain, _ the world going  _ white, _ and he falls and she’s still screaming and she feels Anakin trying to move but he  _ can’t _ and he’s swearing and she still can’t--she can’t--

And Sidious looks up at her and  _ smiles. _

“What a  _ waste,” _ he says, condescension dripping from every syllable, and anger  _ surges _ through her, tinging her vision red, and everything crystallizes in her mind, purpose and clarity freezing around the anger, and she straightens, ignites her ‘sabers again.

The Force flows through her like a second skin, and she draws on its power, counters the Force-push Sidious sends her way, and  _ jumps, _ lands on the edge of the pod, laser-focused and intent upon her goal (Tup is moaning in pain on the floor and Brii is cradling his  _ vod’s _ head in his lap, hands shaking and tears streaming down his face and none of it  _ matters), _ and she smiles wolfishly and says, her voice a low snarl, “You shouldn’t have  _ done that.” _

And she  _ pours _ power into her strikes, speeds her movement to a blur, remembers Kadavo and the mines and Agruss and Umbara and Krell and Kamino and  _ every time _ his machinations have hurt  _ her men, _ and she  _ feels _ more than sees Master Windu and Master Yoda  _ finally _ getting here but she doesn’t let that distract her, and she feints to one side, then the other, cuts down at his knees, and Sidious  _ stabs _ at her shoulder because she’s left it open and she doesn’t even  _ try  _ to block--she rams herself  _ forward, _ onto his crimson lightsaber, and it  _ hurts _ but she just lets the pain fuel her determination and she jerks both her silver blades up and slices his arms off at the shoulder, a Force-pull yanking the ‘saber out of her shoulder, and then she  _ jumps, _ flips over his head, scissors her blades in an  _ x _ through the air (there’s the slightest resistance when the edges meet his neck), and she lands  _ hard _ and goes down to one knee, arms still extended in the follow-through, and for a moment she doesn’t even  _ breathe _ and then someone’s saying, “You can put your ‘sabers away now, Ahsoka, it’s over,” (she thinks it’s Master Windu) and she lets out an awful  _ sob _ and her hands are shaking and she thinks she gets her ‘sabers back to her belt and then she’s collapsing on her knees by Rex, reaching  _ desperately _ for his mind, because he  _ has to be here, _ he  _ has to survive, _ she can’t  _ let him go like this, _ not now that they’ve finally started administering a gene-fix and he’s not aging double anymore and--

_ Rex, please,  _ cyare, _ come back,  _ mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome,  _ you promised,  _ and she finds the well of power in her even as it fights, tells her she’s done  _ too much, _ she needs to  _ stop, _ and she forcefully directs it at his injury even as her hands tremble and her head  _ explodes _ in agony and she  _ can’t lose him! _

~~~

Brii’s knee isn't moving right when he drags himself over to his  _ ori’vod _ and feels frantically for a pulse, clumsily, without quite knowing what he's doing. He can't have lost  _ another _ one, please, there's so much already aching and jagged and he can't believe any of it, really.

He finds a pulse but it's so weak that for a moment he thinks there isn't one and he’s been crying since the Chancellor stabbed Fives (and he can't forget his  _ vod’s _ look of shock and pain and  _ help me _ before he'd fallen) but now he's sobbing and Tup lets out a soft groan but at least he's  _ alive _ .

He thinks he should care about Ahsoka fighting the Chancellor, should care when she sweeps her sabers and shears his head off and it tumbles to the floor like so much garbage, should care that General Windu and Master Yoda are in the pod with them, but he can't because Fives and Dogma and Rex are all  _ dead _ and Tup isn't moving or answering him and Brii wants this all to end, wants to wake up back in the barracks and find it's been a terrible dream.

“Tup,  _ ori’vod, _ it's gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pulls Tup’s head into his lap and grabs his hand, finds his own hands are shaking and his leg  _ hurts _ where Rex had shot him and he knows it was to save his life but what if Brii could have  _ saved him _ ?

General Windu crouches down next to him and Tup and Brii almost wants to push him away when he sets a hand on Tup’s shoulder. “He's going to be okay, soldier,” the General says firmly. “He just needs a medic.”

Brii clings to those words, glances over at his Captain; Commander Tano has his head in her lap and her arms around his shoulders and she's  _ sobbing _ and he  _ hates _ this. Master Yoda is standing with them, his hand outstretched over Rex’s face, and Brii swallows. “What about the Captain?”

“I don't know.”

Tuck comes over, then, looks shaken and lost but he checks Tup’s pulse too, peels back his eyelid to look at his pupils. “I can take care of him, Brii. Do you want to help me?”

And Brii swallows and nods and meets Tuck’s eyes because of course he wants to help, Tup needs him.

“Good.” Tuck smiles at him and it's not a real smile at all; it strains around his eyes and mouth and there are tears in Tuck’s eyes too. “We need to get him somewhere safe where he can rest; how about you help me get another pod and we'll get him out of here?”

Brii realizes maybe Tuck is just trying to calm him down and he nods, quickly, gets to his feet and nearly buckles again.

“I'm sorry, Brii, you should sit back down, I didn't realize-”

“No, I can do this,” he whispers, ignores Tuck’s quick protest and General Windu’s frown and steadies himself on his feet. He can do this, he can help, he just needs to get Tup out of here, away from all the dead.

~~~

Anakin  _ hurts. _

Between the effort of using so much Force and struggling to keep shields up as the  _ vod’e _ with chips kill their Jedi and the Force  _ screams _ with agony, and straight-up  _ weariness _ from trying to singlehandedly best a  _ Sith Master _ in combat, and the fact that his left leg is  _ gone _ from the knee down, white-hot  _ agony _ he remembers vaguely from the first battle of Geonosis, he’s almost useless. He can’t even  _ stand. _

His bond with Ahsoka is nothing but awful pain and heartbreak and terror; his bond with Obi-Wan is just  _ silence, _ all-too-familiar, but there’s  _ nothing he can do _ about either of them. At least Master Yoda is crouching over Rex, attempting to Force-heal the captain.

Another pod comes zooming up to his, and Anakin summons up the hollow strength to lift his head and see who it is: a wide-eyed,  _ terrified, _ sick Jesse, and Kix numb and exhausted and horrified clutching his  _ ori’vod’s _ hand. Kix climbs into Anakin’s pod, Jesse behind him, crouches down, “Fives,” Anakin manages to choke out, and Kix just shakes his head.

“He’s  _ gone, _ General. His Force-signature is--gone,” and the numbness breaks for a moment, and Kix is  _ screaming _ silently, his tortured soul staring out through his shattered eyes, and Anakin wants to be  _ sick. _

“Obi-Wan--”

“A Councillor is with him, getting him back to the Temple. The Duchess is with them.” And that’s  _ good, _ that means Obi-Wan is getting the help he needs.

“Ahsoka needs--”

“Skywalker,” Kix says harshly, glaring, “Ahsoka has been stabbed in the shoulder, has a burn on one arm and a bruised trachea, and is suffering aftereffects from repeated electric shocks.  _ You are missing half your leg.”  _ He  _ glares _ even more.  _ “Priorities.” _

Anakin wonders if the medic even  _ notices _ the healthy dose of Force-suggestion behind his words. “I’m  _ sorry, _ Kix,” he chokes out suddenly, “I should’ve made sure the chips got out sooner, I’m sorry, this is my fault--”

“General!” Kix looks  _ exhausted _ and scared and so  _ done. _ “Do me a favor and  _ shut the kriff up!” _

There’s enough Force behind the words for even Anakin to pause for a minute, and then Kix starts poking at what’s left of his leg, and he decides maybe it would be better if he just shuts up.

~~~

Kix can't compartmentalize as well as he needs to. He needs to be focusing on his General’s horribly mangled and burned leg, on saving the leg if he can, but the Force is so insistent and he feels the lack of Fives’ and Dogma’s presences like a phantom pain, Rex is barely a whisper of energy, and everyone else is just pain and grief and terror against his thoughts, breaking his concentration into jagged pieces.

What little he was able to do for Obi-Wan has left him exhausted, and he knows he can't really heal Skywalker’s leg, but he examines it anyway, tries to focus on digging into his med pac for bacta and gauze because he’ll only be able to do a little more Force healing and it won’t be enough.

He extends his hand over his General’s leg, reaches for the Force, and as it answers it tells him  _ not much more, little one _ , and he sends back begrudging agreement. He reaches to the deepest and worse nerve damage and starts knitting things back together, reconnecting nerves and muscles and bone, and he feels a surge of pain and Skywalker bites back a groan. He’s not sure the leg is salvagable because his senses tell him there’s  _ so much damage _ and the small supply of bacta he has won’t help much either.

He scrubs at his eyes with his free hand because they’re blurring with tears and weariness, and he keeps reaching, healing things, until the Force hums and withdraws out of his reach.  _ Enough _ .

His General looks concerned for him and Kix can’t think why, there are more  _ important _ things to worry about right now. He needs to get him out of here to the Temple med bay and bacta and Jedi healers who can do more than he can, then he can worry about Ahsoka because at least he knows he can handle her injuries with his supplies. Tuck has gotten Brii and Tup out of there, which is good, good for him, and he sees another pod coming towards them with a small squad of troopers surrounding Senator Amidala and that will help, they can take Skywalker and get him to the medics. “Sit here and  _ don’t kriffing move _ ,” he growls, hands his General some pain meds, and gets to his feet and steadies himself a second before heading over to Ahsoka to help her (tries not to focus on his Captain or on Fives because he can’t help them).

~~~

Ahsoka sits on the carbon-scored floor of the pod, Rex’s head in her lap, her hands pressing against his cheeks, and drifts.

She floats on waves of pain, horror, fear, anger, the Force still reeling and roiling from all the deaths, and if only they’d pushed  _ harder _ for the battalions to come off the front and get their chips removed then maybe this wouldn’t have happened. There’s a haze clouding her mind, a fog she can’t think through; one fact is crystal-clear, though: if she’d just  _ let the Dark have Sidious, _ none of this would’ve happened. It’s  _ entirely _ her fault.

_ And how could you have saved his life, he's on Coruscant and we're here - and he's the one who ordered them to recondition Rex, _ Fives snarls--

_ Fives. _

His prone body is still just laying crumpled on the floor of the pod, left like so much trash, and distantly she realizes she’s  _ crying _ again (did she ever stop?), because his Force-signature is gone, and Dogma’s too, and--

“Focus, you must, Ahsoka,” Master Yoda says, drawing her attention back to where the diminutive green Master is crouching over Rex’s injuries, attempting to heal him enough that he’ll survive being transported to a bacta tank. “Your mind keeps him stable.”

Is he  _ seriously _ asking her to be--to be  _ emotionless _ right now?

Still, she has to  _ try, _ at least; she  _ can’t _ let Rex die, even though she’s terrified that’s what’s going to happen anyway. So she slows her breathing and tries to fall into meditation, but everything’s just--fuzzy, and she’s shivering, and there’s a strange  _ heaviness _ to the air, and her throat  _ hurts _ and breathing is hard and her head  _ aches _ and she thinks her shoulder is screaming at her and so is her arm but she can’t bring herself to  _ care. _

(She  _ failed them, _ she couldn’t protect them.)

Someone lands on the pod next to her, and she flinches a little, blinks eyes blurring with exhaustion and tries to concentrate on identifying the figure--it’s Kix, she thinks, and he kneels down beside her and starts to look at her shoulder. She can’t keep herself from jerking away from his touch--she doesn’t  _ mean _ too, but she’s so  _ tired _ and Rex is dying and Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and she  _ could have stopped this _ and she  _ can’t breathe. _

“It’s okay, Commander, it’s just me,” Kix says gently. “I need to look at your shoulder. Is that alright?”

Ahsoka shakes her head, hissing through her teeth as the world  _ spins _ and pain lances through her temples. She’s  _ fine. _ (She doesn’t  _ deserve _ help.)

“Anakin is worried about you,” Kix says, and she wishes he’d yell at her, not be so quiet.  _ Someone _ should yell at her. “If you won’t let me look at you for yourself, please do it for him?”

Kriff him. Anakin isn’t at fault for any of this. So she nods a bit, just a tiny dip of her chin, and stares down at Rex and doesn’t look away.  _ Please come back, Rexter. _

“Are you alright, Ahsoka?” someone’s asking, and the voice is familiar but she’s too tired and too heartsick to bother to figure out why.

“Mostly, Senator,” Kix answers. “She’s in shock, and she overextended herself--probably dealing with Force burn on top of the physical injuries. Anakin--isn’t.”

He’s not? “What’s wrong with him,” she murmurs, doesn’t lift her head, but Kix’s hands tighten on her shoulder.

“His leg was severed at the knee,” the medic says softly, “and I’m not sure if we’ll be able to save any of that leg. But he’ll survive.”

A part of her finds it funny. “Two limbs down, two to go,” she mumbles, and then she’s laughing hysterically, unable to  _ stop, _ until her laughter turns into jagged sobs and she’s curled over herself, over Rex’s head safe in her lap, and she realizes the familiar voice belongs to Padme--the Senator is crouching down, holding Ahsoka lightly, murmuring nonsense words and vague reassurances and rubbing her back. “This is all  _ my fault, _ I should’ve let him die,  _ I did this, _ I  _ killed them,” _ and she’s shaking and sobbing and her heart is pounding in her chest and she’s going to be  _ sick. _

“Do you still need her?” she thinks she hears Kix asking in an undertone, and there’s an answer she can’t hear over the sound of her heart in her montrals, her erratic breathing (she’s hyperventilating, a part of her thinks, and she needs to  _ slow down, _ but she can’t), and then Kix is projecting soothing warmth at her and then there’s a faint  _ pinching _ in her arm, she almost doesn’t even  _ register _ it, and then her thoughts are clouded by heaviness and the world goes dark and still and silent and  _ soft. _

…

Awareness slips back slowly, softly, like a gentle caress; for a long moment, Commander Cody isn’t quite sure why he’s waking up or where he is, even. Wherever he is, it’s oddly silent, although the way the faint sounds of conversation echo, it’s a large space. Not the barracks, then. His eyes flicker open, slowly--

And then memory comes rushing back, and Cody squeezes his eyes shut again, rolling onto his hands and knees, and he barely gets his bucket off before he’s retching onto the floor.  _ Execute Order Sixty-Six _ and  _ good soldiers follow orders _ and  _ kill the Jedi _ and he raises his blaster and takes aim and fires, all in one fluid motion, and General Kenobi  _ falls,  _ and--and the nightmares came true, and he didn’t even  _ try _ to fight, he turned his blaster on his Jedi and fired and his aim was good and he almost shot  _ General Skywalker _ except Fives jumped in the way and he  _ would’ve killed vod’e _ and he can’t--he can’t--he can’t even  _ breathe. _

“Easy there,  _ vod.” _

The voice is familiar, one of his own  _ vod’e, _ and Cody shakes his head, fights to get his breathing back under control, and there are tears streaming down his face because  _ he killed his Jedi. _ “Get away from me,” he rasps out,  _ “Please.” _

He wants his General, he wants Rex, he wants Waxer and Boil, but Waxer is dead on Umbara and his General is dead by  _ his hand _ and he--he--

“He’s not dead, Cody,” a different voice says, lighter and more familiar though he still can’t place it, and Cody laughs bitterly, because that  _ can’t be. _

“Don’t lie to me. My aim was good and I  _ know _ where I hit him.” He’s vaguely aware he’s snapping, too harsh, but he can’t quite make himself  _ care. _ (Why should he  _ care _ about  _ anything? _ His General, his Jedi, is  _ dead _ and it’s entirely his fault and he didn’t even  _ try _ to fight it.)

“Cody--” (and that’s the first voice again)

_ “Ne’johaa!” _ he snarls out, too  _ horrified _ to remember the words in Basic, and his hands are trembling and he’s  _ still crying _ and  _ his Jedi is dead. _

_ “Udesii, _ Cody,” says the second voice, and that voice doesn’t belong to a  _ vod _ and so his head jerks up--

He’s staring at Duchess Kryze, her face grim and tearstained and a blaster wound in one leg, and she’s leaning slightly on the shoulder of a  _ vod _ he recognizes as Click. “Duchess,” he chokes out, “I’m  _ sorry--” _

“So am I,” she breathes, and she closes her eyes for a minute, a shadow passing over her face. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Cody. Obi-Wan is alive, though his condition is poor. We’re taking him to the Temple,” and she extends a hand to him, a silent offer. Cody  _ almost _ rejects her instinctively, but--there’s a  _ chance _ he  _ didn’t _ kill his Jedi after all, and he finds he’s almost  _ desperate _ to see Kenobi’s face.

So he takes the Duchess’ hand, lets her pull him to his feet, and then he grabs his bucket and follows her and Click out of the Senate chamber, and he takes a deep breath and prepares himself to step out of one nightmare and into another.

~~~

Click stays close to the Duchess, probably closer than he should, but he thinks if he doesn’t he’d just drift off down some hallway and get lost. Commander Cody is doing the same, and his eyes are hollow, blank, his spine straight and shoulders back. Sometimes he glances over to meet Satine’s eyes, but then he quickly looks away and back down.

Satine is leaning on Click’s shoulder more as they walk but he barely knows how he’s staying upright himself. He killed  _ vod’e _ today. And he knows it isn’t his fault, knows all about the chips and the trigger and what Captain Rex found on Kamino but it just doesn’t  _ matter _ , the fact that it wasn’t his fault. It was still his hands that had pulled the trigger, still him that had almost killed Satine, his  _ friend _ , still him that had shot down  _ vod’e _ who got in the way of him  _ killing the Jedi _ . He’d left his bucket in the Council chambers, hadn’t tried to get a blaster from one of the fallen. He doesn’t trust himself with them and he feels like if he were to put his helmet back on it would stifle him.

He’s afraid to go to the med bay, afraid to see what he’s  _ done _ , and he thinks the only reason Cody isn’t ducking off to hide from all this is because his Commander doesn’t believe General Kenobi isn’t dead. Hells, Click isn’t sure  _ he  _ does. He remembers seeing General Kenobi fall and the orders in his head telling him he didn’t have to bother about that one anymore, and Commander Cody doesn’t  _ miss _ \- but he has to be rational, has to remember what he  _ knows _ .

He doesn’t want to kill his  _ vod’e _ , it wasn’t his fault however it feels, Kenobi and Satine are still alive, they’re all… they’re all going to be  _ fine _ , it’s over now, it… It’s so hard to hang onto any of that, especially when get to the medical floor in the Temple and the halls are full of Jedi and medics and troopers rushing madly from place to place, and Click shrinks closer to Satine because he’s sure someone is going to see him and recognize him as a traitor.

Satine stops someone, asks them where they’ve taken the victims from the Senate, and they point down a hall and tell them how far to go, but really they almost didn’t need to ask because as they get close the hall is choked with troopers, uninjured or otherwise, waiting outside the med bay and a number of medics are just trying to keep them all calm. Click wants to join their number, fade into the rest of the panicked faces and huddle against the wall and not  _ look _ at them. But he’s supporting Satine, and he thinks if she doesn’t have someone to lean on she’ll collapse, especially when they see the General, and Cody is in no position to be helping, so that means Click has to. Has to wade through his staring brothers, some of them crying, some of them clearly shell-shocked, and stammer out to the medics that Satine’s leg is injured and she has to see General Kenobi, and they let the three of them in (Cody flinches when he brushes against one of the medics and for a moment what little composure he has seems about to crumble).

The med bay is full of  _ vod’e _ on bunks and stretchers, Jedi Generals and healers, and ordinary medics. He sees the  _ vod _ who stunned him sitting next to a bunk, face creased like wet paper with grief, and General Skywalker is on a bunk too, and Commander Tano, and Captain Rex, and  _ all of them _ . He doesn’t see General Kenobi right away and that  _ terrifies _ him, and he thinks Commander Cody can’t find him either because Cody’s shoulders start sagging, and his stiff posture goes defensive, drawn inward, and Click doesn’t know what to do because he’s the closest thing either the Duchess or Commander has to  _ support _ and  _ comfort _ but he has nothing to offer them, will have less than that if his Jedi is… if his Jedi is gone.

~~~

Satine leans gratefully on Click’s shoulder as she makes her way to the medbay; inside is  _ chaos, _ like after Kamino only  _ worse. _ She sees Anakin on a bunk, a pair of Jedi healers bent over him; Ahsoka is unconscious on the bunk next to her Master, a bandage around one arm and the other bound tightly against her chest. Padme sits in a chair between the two bunks, looking utterly  _ terrified, _ and Satine meets her friend’s eyes and tries to smile but she  _ can’t, _ because she knows exactly how the Senator is feeling right now.

Captain Rex is on yet another bunk, with another Jedi healer over him, and the medic, Kix, is sound asleep in a hard plastoid chair, one hand still clutching his lightsaber tightly, and Jesse is pacing. Brii is sitting on the edge of another bunk and he’s  _ sobbing, _ clinging to the hand of the trooper in the bunk--Tup, Satine thinks. She recognizes multiple other troops, but she can’t bring herself to meet their eyes, because her hands are  _ dripping _ with the blood of their  _ vod’e _ and she can barely breathe around the thick, choking shame and guilt clogging her throat.

And she can’t see Obi-Wan.

The Jedi Master who’d taken him had  _ promised _ her he was still alive, but--but what if he was wrong? She can’t quite convince herself that’s not true, and her hands are shaking, and--

“Duchess,” a familiar voice calls, and she leans a little more into Click (tries not to, but she can’t help it, her leg will barely hold her weight) and shifts to see Scratch beckoning her to a corner. “Here.”

Multiple healers are clustered around the bunk, enough she can’t see past them, but as she and Click and Cody approach they disperse, their robes silently swishing behind them as they move on to other patients. Obi-Wan is laying wan and pale on the bunk, a loose hospital shirt not quite hiding the shape of the bulky bandage around his ribcage and shoulders. Instinct takes over and she tries to run to him, only for her leg to give out, and she  _ swears _ because that  _ hurts _ and she needs to  _ get to him _ and--

“Easy there,” Scratch murmurs, and there’s hands under her arms, helping her to her feet, and she lets the hands--Scratch’s hands, she thinks--guide her to the edge of the bunk so she can sit down. “He’s going to survive, Duchess, Commander,” the medic says, and then he frowns, concerned. “May I look at your leg?”

It’s unlike him to be so polite--she thinks perhaps the fight in the Senate chamber and the consequences and the--and suddenly she can’t remember if Scratch has his chip or not, and she can’t  _ breathe _ and she squeezes her eyes shut, tries to reach for the familiar easy detachment, because she  _ cannot _ fall apart, not right now. “Y-yes,” she manages through clenched teeth. “Cody,” and it’s a little easier to speak now, “stay for a while, reassure yourself he’s still alive.”

The Commander doesn’t answer, but she hears the distinctive sound of one of those awful plastoid chairs scraping across the floor, and she takes that to mean he’s taken her advice and settled in.

Scratch is applying a bacta patch to the blaster wound on her leg; it  _ hurts, _ and Satine hisses a little, her hands fisting in the blanket beneath her. “I know, Duchess,” Scratch murmurs, gentle, “just a minute and I’ll get you some pain meds. Do you want me to find you a bunk--”

She cuts him off, panic flaring at the thought of  _ leaving. _ “No!” Her chest heaves, and she sucks in a deep breath, struggles to bring her voice down to an acceptable level. “No--no. Please. I’ll stay with Obi.”

The medic nods, and he finishes with her leg, brings her a glass of water and some pills, which she takes gratefully. And then she frowns, because it occurs to her she’s seen  _ most _ of Ahsoka’s squad, but… “Scratch?” she asks, already curling up beneath the blanket, as close as she can get to her Jedi without pressing on his injury.

“Yes, Duchess?”

“Where are Fives and Dogma?” The only missing members, because she’s pretty sure she’s seen Tuck stumbling around somewhere.

Scratch’s face goes so,  _ so pale, _ and she can’t  _ breathe, _ because--because he’s turning away from her, shaking his head, shoulders trembling, and  _ no, _ oh no. “The Chancellor,” he chokes out, and then he  _ flees _ and Satine can’t hold back the tears any longer, and she sobs softly into her pillow as the world shatters around her.

~~~

Jesse doesn’t know where they’ve taken Fives’ body, and no one is  _ answering him _ about it, no one knows anything, and he can’t let himself stop moving because Kix is his best friend but Fives is -  _ had been _ \- too and now he’s, now he’s, now he’s-

Jesse paces.

Repetition is easier, makes sense, if he just sticks to this pattern there’s something to think about, so it’s from next to Kix’s chair to the closest bunk and back, he counts out five long strides every time, one, two, three, four, five, and a turn back the way he came. Kix is asleep, has been almost since they got here, because he was too tired to begin with and he’d tried to work but he’d gotten too upset and it had been Jesse who grabbed Tuck, asked him to please get his  _ vod _ to sleep.

Jesse can’t sleep, even though he should. But he’s alright pacing, he can just do this, can just count the steps (one, two, three, four, five) and not think about- not think about-

About Fives. He’ll just not think about Fives.

His  _ vod _ who was always ready to jump into a fight, not because he was  _ careless  _ but because he cared  _ too much _ , creative enough to be an ARC trooper, always the first to remind his  _ vod’e _ they were more than numbers, the one who’d stood by him in front of a firing squad and refused to be cowed, his-

He’s  _ not thinking about Fives _ .

(One, two, three, four, five, and turn.)

He didn’t have to fight as much as his  _ vod’e _ because he was with Kix, which is good, he doesn’t have to deal with that.

(If he’d have been with his squad maybe he could have saved Fives, or taken his place, because he’d hardly had to do anything to defend Kix and he  _ doesn’t know _ , he just knows he wasn’t there and he’d seen the saber blade pierce through Fives’ back armor and hadn’t been able to  _ move  _ because there was no point. Now he can’t stay still.)

One, two, three, four, five, and do it again and again and again until the numbers are cycling in his head, just counting and steps and checking on Kix, ignoring everything else so he doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to think about Fives dying and Dogma dying and everyone dying and how many  _ vod’e _ are dead again and his General’s mutilated leg (makes him feel sick) and Rex barely hanging onto life and everything  _ shattering _ and-

Jesse paces so he doesn’t have to think.

One, two, three, four, five, repeat, repeat, repeat.

~~~

Kix blinks sleep from his eyes, slow and careful, stretching a bit; he shouldn’t be awake, he’s not  _ rested, _ but he can’t quite let himself sleep when there’s so much that needs doing, and--

And it’s, surprisingly, not  _ that _ that’s woken him up this time.

Instead, it’s the way the Force is  _ twisting _ in anguish around his  _ ori’vod, _ around Jesse, pacing back and forth on autopilot, his hands clenched, fingers digging into his palm so hard the veins on the backs of his hands are popping out. There’s  _ agony _ from General Skywalker’s bed, although that’s at least muted by a haze of morphine, and Commander Tano and Rex are still unconscious--and at least Rex’s wound is much better after having multiple Jedi healers work on him, Kix can  _ sense _ it. General Kenobi is--well,  _ better, _ at least, but there’s a choked knot of  _ pain _ and guilt and shame curled up beside him and it takes Kix a moment to realize that knot is  _ the Duchess, _ and the second similar knot is Cody, and--

And he can’t help them all, and he’s  _ tired, _ and Jesse needs to  _ sit the kriff down. _

“Jesse,” he says hoarsely, winces a little, because his throat  _ hurts _ and it’s dry and scraped raw, like he’s been screaming. “Jesse, sit  _ down, ori’vod.” _

Jesse doesn’t stop moving, just shakes his head. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Kix.”

He would  _ like _ to, even though he really would like to be  _ out there _ helping the medics and the Jedi with his  _ vod’e _ and his Jedi and (and he wonders what’s happening to the Jedi out in the field, the ones with battalions still half- or more full of chips, if any of them survived, and he thinks of the young padawan  _ screaming _ for his Master and wonders if he survived) he just doesn’t want to  _ sit here _ when there are people who  _ need help _ but the Force reminds him, gently,  _ no more, little one, _ and he huffs out a sigh but listens because he’s learned his lesson. Still, he can at least try to do  _ this, _ to help his brother, so he sits up a bit more (frowns down at the blanket he doesn’t remember getting for himself), leans forward. “You’re not fine.”

He thinks he knows why.

Jesse won’t  _ look _ at him, and Kix grits his teeth and lets himself give voice to the hot, clenching  _ shame _ in his gut. “If we’d  _ been there, _ maybe we could’ve saved them,” he says softly, and Jesse’s head jerks around to stare at him. “I--Kenobi always says I’m  _ good _ with my lightsaber. Maybe if I’d gone, that would’ve been enough.” And then he sighs. “Or maybe more of us would’ve gotten killed, I don’t  _ know, vod, _ no one does.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Jesse says, almost sharply, and Kix sighs again, yawns.

“I know.” He does, that’s the thing. He doesn’t want to think about it either, because thinking about it means that it’s  _ real, _ means that maybe Fives’ death and Dogma’s death are partially  _ his fault, _ and he’s a kriffing  _ Force-sensitive, _ he should’ve  _ seen _ Dogma falling and  _ caught him, _ but he didn’t and Dogma fell and Dogma died and Kix  _ could’ve stopped it. _

Jesse lets out a slow breath. “I’m afraid I’ll dream,” he admits quietly, finally, and Kix nods because understands  _ that, _ too.

“Tuck,” he calls, gestures at the medic with one hand, and Tuck nods, comes over to them with a syringe.

“I can give you a sedative,  _ vod,” _ Tuck offers, and Jesse hesitates for a long moment before he finally nods.

“Fine.”

Kix swallows, watches as Tuck escorts his  _ ori’vod _ to an empty bunk (there are so few of those) and lays him down, gives him the sedative, comes back over and gives Kix a  _ look. _ “You need to be sleeping too, Kix.”

“I know,” he mumbles, drops his gaze to the lightsaber on his belt. (He could’ve  _ saved them.) _ “Can--can I have one of those too?”

Tuck doesn’t say a word, just walks over and injects him with the sedative, and then he breathes, “Sleep well,  _ vod.” _

And Kix does.

~~~

Satine is asleep and the technician, Click, is just standing there looking at the floor, and Cody can’t seem to let himself bend, let himself do anything but sit in tense silence and stare at his General, at the weak rise and fall of his chest that says he’s  _ alive _ . He doesn’t want to be here. Duchess Satine had cried herself to sleep and that’s his fault, he killed -  _ no, not killed, he’s breathing and alive _ \- Obi-Wan and now she’s afraid.

And he shot Fives and what if he’d slowed him down, what if the kid would’ve been alright if Cody hadn’t shot him? A slow soldier is a dead soldier.

He folds his hands together, stares down at his hands and the way his fingertips make indents in the skin on the back of his hands, and tries to ignore the tiny voice that tells him there’s blood on his hands, because there  _ isn’t _ , and his  _ vod’e _ had stunned him before he could do any more damage.

He should be grateful this is all he’s done.

Scratch comes back after a while, seems shaky, but he offers Cody and Click water and Cody takes it automatically, curls his fingers around the glass and raises it smoothly to his lips, makes himself swallow some to get the sick taste out of his mouth. Doesn’t tighten his hand too much because that will shatter the glass. Sets it down on the floor next to his chair and leans forward again, feels ice freezing his spine straight and tense.

“Do you need pain meds, Commander?” Scratch asks gently, and Cody shakes his head. He has a headache but that’s all, and there’s enough of a mess here that he can’t take medicine his  _ vod’e _ may need. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Cody modulates his tone, keeps it steady, firm. “Thank you, Scratch.”

“Sir…” Scratch seems about to ask him more questions, like he wants to help, and Cody thinks Scratch can’t be trying to support him so he raises a hand, shakes his head.

“Enough. I’m  _ fine _ .”

“He’ll be alright, sir,” Scratch tells him, and Cody clenches his jaw and makes himself nod like he believes it, like it makes this any better. “They both will. We’re doing the best we can.”

“Both?” Cody asks, allowing himself a small frown of confusion, a little more movement, enough to twist in his chair and meet Scratch’s gaze. The medic stares at him for a second, then swears softly and visibly  _ shudders _ , twisting his hands together.

“Sir, Captain Rex… he’s not doing well either, I thought you… He was fighting the Chancellor and he got hit, bad.”

Cody lurches to his feet without thinking, feels the ice cracking and failing him, and he recovers himself with an effort, shifts his shoulders back and his chin up and holds onto his composure with a durasteel grip. “I didn’t  _ know _ ,” he says, growls it a little, and Scratch points, touches his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Click and I have the General.”

Cody nods, short and taut, and sees Rex, sees him lying on a bunk by himself except for the medics, and he strides fast around rows of bunks, drags down the desire to shove the medics out of his way, and comes to a halt by the side of Rex’s bunk, plants his feet wide apart, curls his traitorous, shaking hands into fists. His  _ ori’vod _ has never looked so small and pale, and after several long heartbeats, Cody lets himself reach out with one hand, rest his palm on Rex’s shoulder, stares at the swathes of bandages over his  _ vod’s _ bare torso.  _ He’s not doing well either _ , Scratch had said, but he’d also said  _ they’ll be alright _ , so Cody tries to hang onto that and the ice in his bones and what little control he has. It’s too personal for the medics to hear, but he whispers anyway, jaw tight and throat aching. “Please,  _ ori’vod _ , don’t go.”

But Rex isn’t answering, and his Jedi isn’t either, and Cody is alone.

~~~

Ahsoka  _ snaps _ awake with the horrified sense that  _ something is wrong _ pounding in her ears and an inexplicable  _ panic _ roaring through her veins, every muscle locked tight and prepared to  _ flee, _ and she doesn’t know where she  _ is _ but it’s too  _ bright _ and loud and there’s  _ people _ moving around and the Force feels awful and thick and so so  _ heavy _ and Rex is--Rex is--

Rex is  _ gone, _ he’s  _ not here, _ he’s supposed to be  _ here _ next to her but she’s  _ alone _ and it’s all she can do to keep herself from  _ screaming, _ because she remembers--she remembers a lurid red lightsaber and  _ screams _ and the sound of the universe shattering around her and Dogma falls and she’s  _ too slow _ and she  _ reaches _ but she can’t  _ find him _ and she’s shaking, because what if they didn’t get him here in time, what if he’s  _ dead _ and she’s--alone, and she can’t-- _ Rex! _ she screams, but he’s not answering and she can’t  _ feel him _ and there’s something awful and sick and  _ choking _ in her gut.

Her eyes can’t  _ focus, _ and all she can see is  _ white, _ vague shadows moving around, and she tries to  _ move, _ to speak, but her throat is raw and she can’t  _ breathe _ and everything hurts and her shoulder is  _ agony _ and  _ she can’t feel Rex _ and--and she jerks herself upright, scrabbling for the edge of the bunk, she doesn’t know  _ where _ she is but she  _ knows _ she needs to find Rex, find him, he’s got to be here  _ somewhere, _ he  _ has to be. _ Has to.

“Commander!” There’s hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down, and she fights them instinctively, closes her eyes against the wave of pain that breaks through the haze of painkillers. “Commander, I need you to  _ calm down--Kix!” _

She doesn’t know who it is that’s touching her, but they need to  _ get off! _ She  _ reaches, _ shoves them away with a wave of Force, and then hisses in a sharp breath, both her hands going to her head as it  _ explodes _ in agony, and  _ ow kriff _ that was a  _ bad idea-- _

“Commander,  _ Ahsoka,” _ and she  _ knows _ that voice, that’s Kix, he’s  _ safe, _ he’ll know where Rex is, he’ll  _ help her, _ and she settles the instant she feels him projecting soothing warmth at her. “Easy there. You need to stay still, Ahsoka, you’ve been injured.”

_ “Rex,” _ she tries, and her voice breaks and cracks and it  _ burns _ and there are tears in her eyes and she can’t keep them back. “Please…” She  _ wants him. _

“I know, Commander,” Kix says. “He’s right here--”

“Can’t  _ feel him,” _ and she doesn’t  _ want _ to talk because  _ kriffing hells _ it hurts but she  _ needs Rex _ and she’s so  _ scared _ and she doesn’t know--she thinks she must be in the medbay, if Kix is here, but she doesn’t know  _ how _ she got here and, and, and he was  _ almost dead _ and she’s shaking.

“Ahsoka, if you  _ relax,” _ and Kix emphasizes the last word  _ hard, _ and she instinctively obeys, “I can bring you to him, let you stay with him.”

_ “Please!” _ She’s crying.

“Alright, this might hurt a little. I’m sorry,” and she doesn’t  _ care, _ she just  _ needs Rex. _ Kix wraps her in her blanket and lifts her bodily into his arms, and he’s right, it  _ hurts, _ and she whimpers but that’s okay, that’s alright, because she’s going to get to see Rex.

“What the  _ kriff, _ Kix,” a medic says, “Where are you  _ taking _ her?”

They--they aren’t going to  _ let her see him _ and she--she can’t--no, no,  _ please, _ she  _ wants Rex! _ Kix can’t  _ let them _ put her back. He  _ can’t. _

“Get the kriff  _ out of my way,” _ Kix snarls, and she doesn’t think she’s ever heard his voice so low and deadly before.

The medics move.

And then Kix is setting her down, oh-so-gently, tucking her under a pair of blankets, and she can finally  _ breathe _ again, because Rex is right  _ here _ and his mind is still so far away but she can touch him, can reassure herself he’s alive, still breathing, and she curls tightly around him, ignores the way the medics are snapping and shouting, squeezes her eyes shut again and presses her face into the back of his neck, against his skin. He’s  _ so far away _ but she pushes strength and love and her desperate  _ need _ for him to  _ wake up _ at him, begging him to  _ come back, _ because she’s  _ alone _ and all she can feel from Anakin is  _ pain _ and  _ despair _ and Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and Tup she doesn’t know, Brii is--and Obi-Wan is injured and Satine is scared and she--she--she doesn’t  _ know, _ she  _ needs him, _ needs her Captain back.  _ Please come back, please, wake up, Rexter, please please  _ **_please,_ ** _ I need you, _ and a distant part of her remembers that this is  _ all her fault _ but she’s too scared and sick to listen right now.

~~~

Pain comes and goes in waves, ebbing to nothing with his awareness, numb and silent and slipping, then surging hot and fast through him and dragging him back towards the surface, towards wakefulness. When the pain comes he knows he doesn't want to wake up so he reaches for the deep, numb cold until it goes away.

Something tells him he shouldn't do that, but the pain is too fierce and he doesn't want it.

When the pain surges again, it comes with a trapped feeling, with fear and someone's voice telling him he has to  _ wake up _ (he can't that will hurt he can't do that) and a flood of strength that helps the pain not be as bad. Still, he reaches for numbness again because he can't wake up, waking up will be pain and… and something else bad, he thinks.

The voice won't  _ let him _ sink.  _ Come back please please please I need you _ and he wants them to stop. The heat and awareness of pain  _ stay  _ and he doesn't  _ want them _ he wants to be numb where he can't feel it and doesn't have to think about it, please.

But they won't stop  _ reaching _ for him and saying they need him and he can't pull free and go back to the silence, and awareness burns but he can't fight it, begins to remember that if she needs him he  _ shouldn't _ fight it.

Surfacing is fire and agony and  _ grief _ and that's why it had hurt so much and he locks his eyes closed, clings to what little numbness he can have. There's someone  _ too close _ to him and he wants them off, wants to curl back into nothing and sleep and not be here.

But there's a mind pressing against his too and she's familiar and desperate and crying and he reaches for her, weakly.  _ Ahsoka? _

_ Oh, Force, Rex, you're here, you- _ She's babbling in his head and his instinct is to pull away but he doesn't. He's too tired.

He's supposed to remember something, he- he thinks there were people he needed to- his  _ vod’e _ , his squad, they were… he doesn't know. Everything's still so white and fuzzy and hazy and he wants to go back to sleep. But he remembers, his squad, he needs-

_ Where are they? _

She feels questioning, worried, presses tightly up against his mind and the grief pulses warm and he's forgetting- he doesn't know what's happened.  _ My squad, where are they? _

_ Here, _ she says, but there's hesitation, and he isn't sure if it's his mind or hers that echoes with names, with  _ Fives _ and  _ Dogma _ and he doesn't know why but he tries to find answers.

_ Where's Fives? He's… I don't  _ **_know_ ** _ , where is he? Where are they, Ahsoka, Fives and Dogma, where's my squad? _

He misses her response, if there is one, because pain  _ surges _ and he whimpers, wants to go  _ back to sleep _ and be alone and not have it  _ hurt  _ so much. And why is there so much  _ grief, _ he doesn't remember, he doesn't-

_ No, _ he thinks because Palpatine's red lightsaber drives so  _ easily _ into Fives’ chestplate, makes him gasp open-mouthed and silent, because Dogma slams against the side of the pod and over it, falls and hits the ground alone.  _ No, no, no, did you bring them back? Are they here? They have to fix them, they're  _ **_dying_ ** _ I don't, I don't,  _ **_Ahsoka_ ** _ did they bring them back? Where are they? Soka, where are they? _

_ I'm sorry, Rex, I don't know, _ she thinks, and dimly registers panic and loss and fear but he can't stop asking, because they're his men, please, he has to make sure they're alright and it all  _ hurts _ and she's too  _ close _ and he's stuck here, he doesn't even know where here  _ is _ , and somebody’s trying to project calm -  _ it's Ahsoka, he's with Ahsoka  _ \- but he just wants to know where they are, if anyone saved them because they could have, he's sure, there's always-  _ where are they, Soka, please _ and it all  _ hurts _ and he reaches back toward the numbness and sleep because he can't do this, can't be awake because he thinks he  _ knows _ .

Even as he pleads for her to tell him they saved them,  _ please, _ he knows and that's the worst thing, but he won't face it, he can't, so  _ please please Ahsoka where are they _ .

~~~

_ I don't _ **_know,_ ** _ Rex, _ but she _ does _ and it's all her _ fault _ and she got them _ killed _ and--

“Commander,” Kix is saying, “Rex needs to stay asleep so the healers can work.” But she doesn't _ care _ right now, she needs to feel him, and even if that means telling him how it's her fault Fives and Dogma are--dead--then she will. (All of this is _ her fault, _ so much death on her shoulders, and she feels herself beginning to be crushed by the weight of it.)

_ Rex, _ cyare,  _ I don't know what they did with them, Kix sedated me, _ but that doesn't _ explain _ anything and he's still in so much pain so she ignores her headache and floods him with warmth and comfort, soothes away the pain and the fear.  _ I love you, Rex, I'm so sorry, please don't die, please. _

She doesn't mean for that last bit to slip out, but she's so tired and _ scared _ and she can feel how much he _ hurts _ and that scares her because it's _ so much, _ and Sidious stabbing him replays in her mind, over and over again, and she just wants to curl up with him and be warm and _ safe _ again.

But she can't be, she doesn't _ deserve _ to be. She'd gotten _ vod'e _ killed, Rex almost killed, and Obi-Wan, and--

_ I'm so so sorry. _

~~~

Rex wants to retreat from all the  _ apologies _ because he knows they mean something  _ terrible _ and he doesn't want to do this, but her panic won't  _ let him _ , he can't get away from how scared she is and she's asking him not to die and he doesn't  _ care _ , he just wants to sleep again so he doesn't have to-

_ Let me sleep, please, _ he thinks, thinks he might be angry but it's too hard to  _ think _ and he can't do this now.

_ Fives just looks so surprised, like he thought this could never happen to him, and he crumples to the floor and doesn't move and Rex trips over him and he doesn't move and he reaches for something, anything, and his fingers find his dead brother’s arm and- _

_ Dead. _

Rex chokes a little on a rush of pain from his stomach and the sudden  _ grief _ that drowns his thoughts and he wants to forget it, wants to pretend he can't  _ feel this _ , because suddenly everything isn't vague anymore but sharp and jagged and  _ real _ and he failed them, his  _ vod’e _ , his squad, and he doesn't want it to be true because there was no  _ point _ and they're dead and he… he can't do this, and he curls in on himself on the bunk (and it hurts, hurts so bad, and he  _ shouldn't have _ ) and groans into the pillow.

_ I'm sorry, Rex, I'm so sorry, I tried, I'm sorry, I'm sorry _ and he wants her to  _ stop apologizing _ because it doesn't matter.

They're still  _ dead _ and he  _ doesn't want to do this _ .

~~~

_ Rex… _ Ahsoka reaches for him, both physically and mentally, curling herself around him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, even though that  _ hurts. _ He doesn’t respond, though she feels a faint impression of him wishing she’d  _ stop apologizing, _ and she draws back from his mind, stung a bit, trying not to choke on her guilt.

She shouldn’t have made him wake up, she shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have… she’s doing everything  _ wrong _ and she’s the reason they died and--

_ You should go back to sleep, _ she manages to tell Rex, though she’s terrified of his mind withdrawing again, but he  _ needs _ to sleep so he can heal and he has to heal, she isn’t going to lose him. She loves him too much to lose him like this.  _ I’m so sorry,  _ cyare, _ I should’ve done more. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum. _

~~~

There is some comfort in her arm around him, although it's slight because Rex feels  _ trapped _ with himself and he wants to  _ run _ , be moving at least. He does want to sleep, badly, but she's still scared and there's guilt too, and he can't ignore it enough to sleep but he at least has enough control that doesn't ask her to  _ back off _ like he wants to.

It just… it  _ hurts _ and he doesn't feel able to face her, or anyone, and he's so  _ tired _ of losing people.

With an effort at gentleness, he pulls back from her mind enough that her emotions are just background noise, lets himself sink desperately into a corner of his mind, away from the pain and loss so he can just  _ sleep, please, _ everything hurts too much when he's awake.

He thinks he's forgetting something, should tell Ahsoka something, but nothing comes to him and he should stay awake until he remembers but  _ he won't _ . He does, however, curl his fingers around Ahsoka’s wrist and hang on as he slips back into the numb waves of unconsciousness.

~~~

Rex closes his mind off from her and drifts back into sleep, doesn’t say a word, doesn’t return the  _ I love you, _ doesn’t say  _ anything, _ and Ahsoka  _ chokes _ on her guilt, presses her face harder into the back of his neck, tries not to cry.

He’s in  _ so much pain _ and it’s all because of her, it’s her fault, and he’s going to  _ hate _ her, and he’ll  _ leave _ and he might even ask her to break the bond and she’ll be  _ alone _ in her head again--

But he’s clinging to her wrist like she’s an anchor in a storm, and surely that must mean  _ something, _ mean maybe he’s not going to chase her away even though it’s  _ her fault _ his  _ vod’e _ are dead, his squad is missing two members, maybe three--she’s not sure how Tup is doing.

All she knows is her Master is missing another limb and Obi-Wan is almost dead and the Force was  _ screaming _ and it’s  _ all because of her. _

~~~

The air in the med bay is stifling with grief and guilt - Kix can’t feel much else, except the occasional stab of pain like a bolt of lightning. After he’d woken up, he’d felt much stronger, although when he tried reaching for the Force again it still sent him an impression like a shake of the head, a quiet  _ not yet. _ That frustrates him, but he’s steady enough now to help with almost everything else; Scratch is falling to pieces and Tuck’s doing a little better, but not much.

Kix keeps half an eye on Rex and Ahsoka after taking her over to his bunk, and he’d  _ thought _ it would help them both but now he’s worried he was  _ wrong _ , which scares him more than he’d care to admit. At least the Commander isn’t panicking so much, but she’s shaking and clinging to Rex as hard as she can. He  _ thinks _ Rex has gone back to sleep, he hopes anyway, and he finishes applying bacta to a vod’s wounded leg and unravels a length of bandage.

Commander Tano doesn’t feel stable at all, and she needs sleep too, and when Kix starts paying too much attention to the Force around her he starts falling into her guilt, his own rising to mirror hers, and at least she isn’t  _ panicked _ but she’s  _ drowning _ in shame and he glances at her again, sees she’s started to cry. He shields himself a little more from all the  _ emotions _ in the air and the hurt, and works as efficiently as he can on the bandage and ties it off. (He can still feel ripples of pain from both Rex and Commander Tano.) After giving his  _ vod _ some pain meds and water, he makes his way over to Rex’s bunk and, with a careful projection toward Ahsoka, just a general feeling of  _ there’s someone here _ , sets his hand on her elbow. She still flinches, head snapping around - when she meets his eyes, she almost immediately presses her face back into Rex’s neck.

“Commander,” he says gently, reaching for a plastoid chair and setting it by the bunk so he can  _ sit down  _ (and it’s such a relief not to be on his feet). “Commander, this isn’t your fault.” He thinks there might not be a person in this med bay that doesn’t feel somehow at fault for everything that’s happened, the guilt in the air is just  _ that _ heavy.

Hells, he knows he’s contributing to it, because he should have been able to  _ help _ somehow but he had to save General Kenobi and Kenobi still might not be  _ alright _ and although Rex is doing a little better and his experience says he’ll probably pull through, part of him just doesn’t  _ know _ . He leaves his hand on Ahsoka’s elbow, tries to project calm in her direction, although he doesn’t know how that works, really.

~~~

Not her fault? Ahsoka almost  _ laughs, _ but she knows if she does her laughter will just turn into awful sobs again, and so instead she presses herself closer to Rex. “This is  _ all _ my fault,” she rasps, her voice muffled by Rex’s neck.

“Commander, everyone in this kriffing room thinks that--”

She cuts him off, sharp as she can with the pain in her throat. “Remember--the Force vision on Kamino?” She gives him a moment to recall the event she’s talking about, and then she swallows, winces, continues. “I could’ve let the Dark Side  _ destroy _ him,” and she tastes blood in the back of her throat; whether real or imaginary she can’t say. “But I  _ didn’t, _ I let him live, Kix, he’d be  _ dead now _ if it wasn’t for me.”

She’s not entirely sure how Kix will react to that news, so she keeps her face hidden against Rex, taking short, shallow, panting breaths and trying not to  _ completely _ break down. But Kix just stays silent, and so she finally dares to dart a glance at him, nervous.

He looks deep in thought, frowning a little, and when he catches her eyes he shrugs a bit, rueful. “Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

And  _ kriff, _ but she can’t quite stifle a small sob at that. “But they’re  _ dead,” _ she bursts out, raw and wrenching, and then the worst truth of all slips out before she can bite it back: “He didn’t say it  _ back.” _

“Who didn’t say  _ what _ back?” Kix asks, and she closes her eyes, hides her head against Rex again, where it’s safe.

“Rex,” she mumbles, and  _ kriff _ it hurts to speak, and she’s not sure if that’s from screaming or being choked or from the knifing pain of the words she’s about to say. “He didn’t say  _ I love you _ back.” He  _ never _ forgets, so he couldn’t have forgotten.

He  _ must _ blame her, that’s the only explanation, and she  _ deserves it, _ she does, deserves his silence and his cold anger and his disdain, but… but she’s fought  _ so hard _ to be able to keep him, she’d never  _ imagined _ she wouldn’t  _ lose _ him, but that he’d  _ leave. _ Not since she’d understood that the accelerated aging was behind his reluctance to make promises.

~~~

The only one who could really ease Ahsoka’s mind would be Rex, Kix thinks somewhat miserably - but he does  _ know _ that Rex can't hate Ahsoka any more than he himself can. Even if he's not sure what to think about her sparing the Chancellor's life (but Rex hadn't been able to kill Krell either even though he knew he had to, and Kix thinks sometimes there are just things they  _ can’t do _ ).

“I don't think that means…” Kix wants to swear, doesn't. He's like most of his  _ vod’e _ , the closest thing he's had to anything like what Rex and Ahsoka have is a few casual nights. He doesn't know how to  _ help _ . “That doesn't mean he doesn't  _ love you _ , Commander. I'm sure he didn't mean to not say it back.”

She twists to look at him again and it takes an effort not to scold her because she has to stop moving her shoulder so much - he's a little afraid she'll have lost some range of motion permanently, although the Jedi healers promised they'd look at it. “He  _ always _ answers,” she says bitterly, and she looks so small.

Kix doesn't know how to  _ answer  _ that, he doesn't know  _ anything  _ about this. “He won't blame you, you know,” he says helplessly. “I don't.”

~~~

Ahsoka can’t  _ look at him. _

“You should,” she murmurs, closes her eyes, rests her head against Rex again. Because he  _ should, _ that’s the thing; they  _ all _ should. (The guilt feels like it’s crushing her, hovering over her head like an invisible weight pressing down on her, shoulders bowing beneath it.) “Did you feel it, Kix?”

She can  _ tell _ by his tone that the medic is frowning. “Feel what?”

“The Jedi dying,” and she’s barely whispering, the words scratching over her raw, aching throat. (The Force  _ screams _ and there’s so much  _ pain _ and she’s  _ drowning _ under a wave of horror and terror and  _ agony.) _

Kix doesn’t  _ speak. _

She looks up, finally, just a little; his eyes are closed, his face taut and pale and strained, and his hands clenched into fists around the arms of the chair--his whole  _ body _ locking up, tight with remembered  _ pain. _

(She knows that means  _ yes.) _

“It’s  _ my fault,” _ and she’s barely breathing the words out, and there are tears in her eyes again, and she doesn’t even  _ try _ to stop them this time. “I  _ killed them, _ Kix, as good as did it myself. So you  _ should _ blame me.” A pause, a breath, in and out. “And--Rex is--right not to say it.”  _ I don’t deserve it, _ she doesn’t say aloud. She  _ can’t. _ That’s her precious secret, and she clutches it close to her chest, lets it burn in her heart. 

She doesn’t  _ deserve Rex _ in any sense of the word.

~~~

All those deaths, all the weight of the screams and the agony and the loss, and she takes it on  _ herself _ . Kix can’t even really  _ imagine _ how much worse that would be, how- He can’t let her  _ think _ that but he doesn’t know what to say about it, about the implication that Rex shouldn’t  _ love her _ .

How can she possibly say she  _ killed them _ , how can she possibly think that and not be  _ shattering _ \- and he thinks of her panicking and looks at her curled desperately around Rex and remembers after Kadavo and suddenly his throat aches and he can’t swallow and he closes his eyes briefly. It’s too  _ much _ .

He should  _ say something _ , he  _ has _ to, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out; he’s not like Fives, he can’t just  _ say the right thing _ , it’s hard for him, and he doesn’t know how to help. (All her wounds have been bandaged and treated as much as they can be right now so he can’t do that for her, even.) “That’s not  _ true _ ,” he manages, but in a way it  _ is _ her fault and that doesn’t mean he… He doesn’t  _ know _ , it’s just that she can’t be thinking like that because he knows none of them will hate her for it and it’s done and it almost doesn’t  _ matter _ . Except it does to her.

~~~

Padme is sitting on the edge of Anakin’s bunk, lightly running her hand through his hair, when Ahsoka wakes up in a  _ panic; _ Tuck hurries over to her bunk, tries to calm her down, and gets thrown to the floor for his troubles. Padme winces appreciatively: she’s been on the receiving end of such a Force-push before, when she’d tried to wake Anakin up from a nightmare, before they’d formed their bond. 

It  _ hurts. _

She keeps an eye on the young Togruta as Kix carries her over to Rex and lays her down. Her sharp politician’s senses can  _ tell _ something’s not  _ right _ with the young woman, but she’s not entirely sure  _ what, _ at least not until she starts talking, haltingly, obviously still in physical pain, to Kix. The poor medic is  _ lightyears _ out of his depth; so is Padme, if she’s being honest, but at least she’s had some experience talking Ani through moods like this one. So she sends Anakin a wave of reassurance, letting him know where she’s going (if  _ he _ starts panicking, it won’t be good), and then she stands and makes her way over to the bunk.

Kix doesn’t have the experience to recognize the almost-doubletalk Ahsoka is using, but Padme has been reading between the lines since she was eight years old, and she  _ knows _ the unspoken phrase hiding in the halting sentences. So she pulls up a chair of her own, even though the hard, molded plastoid is  _ uncomfortable, _ and sits carefully down, and she decides to speak as plainly as possible. Ahsoka doesn’t need  _ politically correct, _ she needs  _ reassurance, _ she needs  _ comfort. _ “It’s not about what we  _ deserve, _ Ahsoka,” she says quietly, sees the way Kix’s head  _ shoots _ up to stare at her, how Ahsoka  _ flinches _ and drops her eyes. “It’s about what we choose to  _ believe in, _ and Rex believes in you.” She reaches out, catches Ahsoka’s chin and forces the girl to look at her. “Besides, saying you don’t  _ deserve _ his love, and so he shouldn’t love you--that’s taking his free will away from him, that’s giving him an  _ order,” _ and Ahsoka looks  _ sick _ with realization and Padme breathes out a soft sigh of relief that those words had been  _ right. _

“But--I should’ve  _ killed him--” _

And Padme shakes her head,  _ hard, _ because this is  _ such _ a misconception, how could she even  _ consider _ that she should’ve just killed him in cold blood? “Ahsoka, forgiveness and compassion are  _ essential _ to the Jedi. Allowing someone to die when you have the power to save them is irresponsible and directly against the Jedi Code, isn’t it?” She doesn’t know  _ exactly _ what happened, but she knows enough to understand where the guilt is coming from.

Ahsoka jerks her head out of Padme’s grasp, hides her face again. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“No,” Padme agrees, and she casts a covert glance at the Jedi healers very studiously pretending to  _ not listen. _ “But I think you’re what the Jedi  _ should _ be.”

~~~

Kix is nothing but relieved when Senator Amidala comes over and sits down and sets about comforting Ahsoka, saying all the things he hadn’t had any idea how, and he leans back and tries not to feel like he’s intruding. It’s too easy to get lost in his thoughts and memories, in just how  _ many _ of his  _ vod’e  _ had turned on them, eyes empty, on the feeling of troopers and Jedi everywhere  _ dying _ , on not being able to look away as the Chancellor hurt his Jedi and then turned on his  _ vod’e _ and the horrible crushing ache of thinking they were  _ all _ dead, Tup and Rex and Fives and Jesse. He feels so  _ helpless _ in the face of all this, even when he should be in his element, should have even more resources at his disposal than he ever used to.

“I’m not a Jedi,” Ahsoka says, and Kix snaps out of his spiralling thoughts because he finds himself, oddly, wanting to  _ laugh _ . He shouldn’t, he knows it’s important that Ahsoka left the Jedi Order, but she’s still their Jedi as much as Skywalker is.

“No, but I think you’re what the Jedi should be,” Senator Amidala says, earnest, simple, and Kix nods a little because that’s true, he thinks - he has nothing against General Windu or General Unduli or Master Yoda, but they’ve always seemed distant and aloof, but Ahsoka and Skywalker and even Kenobi have always been just  _ people _ .

“You aren’t technically a Commander anymore either,” Kix says, twisting his hands together. “But you don’t see us caring.”

_ You know, vod, who gives a damn? _

That isn’t really the right sentiment for now, but it’s the same thing, in a way. “So you aren’t a Jedi, sir,” he says. “You might as well be, the Code and the… the compassion and stuff, that’s still you. And we still trust you, whether you want us to or not.”

She  _ looks _ at him and he shrugs a little, forces a raw, half-hearted smile. He knows he’s said this before, but it still  _ matters _ , so he’ll say it until someone kriffing listens to him. He can’t tell if it helps her, there’s too much grief anyway and too much pain, but he doesn’t think he can expect better right now. He should get up and change his gloves and get back to work (he has to look at Skywalker’s leg again; he’s fairly sure now that they can’t save it), and Ahsoka has Rex, at least. So he pushes back his chair, stands, nods gratefully at Senator Amidala.

“Commander, just call for me if you need anything, okay?” he says, and he’s not sure she will, but she does at least nod agreement. That will have to suffice; he turns and leaves the three of them to themselves, his mind already falling into patterns of the equipment and meds and supplies he needs to help his General.

~~~

Brii startles awake and for a moment he isn’t sure  _ where he is, _ just that the lights are  _ really kriffing bright _ so this is definitely not the barracks--and then he remembers the Senate, the Chancellor, the Duchess, his  _ vod’e, _ his Generals-- _ Tup-- _ “Tup!” he half-yelps, pushing himself to a vaguely-upright position and shoving his red-tipped hair out of his eyes.

“Shh,  _ ori’vod,” _ a voice mumbles faintly, “you’re  _ loud.” _

It’s Tup.

His eyes are squeezed tightly closed and his face is lined with pain, but he’s  _ awake, _ he’s  _ talking, _ that means he’s  _ not dead, _ and in that moment Brii doesn’t care who’s watching. He scrambles to a better position, ignores how his knee  _ aches, _ and  _ flings _ his arms around his  _ ori’vod, _ and  _ kriff it _ but he’s crying again and Fives is going to tease him about this--

And then Brii remembers that Fives won’t be teasing anyone ever again, won’t be making any more bets on the Captain and the Commander, won’t--

Fives is  _ dead. _

Brii knows he’s  _ sobbing, _ now, and it’s not happy anymore, but he doesn’t  _ care. _ He doesn’t  _ care, _ because Fives is dead and Dogma is dead and  _ Captain Rex _ is--he’s not completely dead, but he’s  _ close, _ and General Kenobi is, and General Skywalker is not good, and the Commander, and, and, and  _ Tup, _ and there’s so many  _ dead brothers _ and he’s choking on his sobs and he can’t  _ breathe _ but he needs to get under control or Tuck is gonna give him a sedative again because he needs to be  _ quiet _ so the medics can work, but--

“Don’t be dead, Tup,” he says hastily, too fast, not  _ caring, _ and he’s shaking and hiccuping and he can’t quite get the tears under control but he  _ has to. _ “Please don’t be dead.”

“If this is death, I’m disappointed,” Tup says, and his voice is still too  _ quiet, _ too faint, too weak, but he’s  _ talking. _ He’s talking and he’s  _ not dead _ and that means Brii at least saved  _ someone, _ that means the whole squad isn’t  _ gone. _ “Hey, s’okay, Brii.”

Brii sniffles, says, “No, it’s  _ not.” _

“You’re right,  _ vod.” _

But it  _ is _ anyway, and he can’t do anything to make it  _ not be, _ he can’t change the past, Tup tells him that all the time, and he wants to  _ break _ but he knows he  _ can’t, _ he has to be strong for his  _ ori’vod, _ for Tup.

~~~

Tup  _ hurts _ . Every muscle in his body is sore and his head is killing him and his heartbeat feels fast and uneven. Really though, he's lucky that's all that's wrong with him.

He closes his eyes tight against the painful glare of the medbay lights and frees one arm to pat Brii on the back, even though it hurts and it hurt that Brii’s hugging him. “Hey,  _ vod _ , what about… the rest of our squad? The battalions?”

“Commander Tano killed the Chancellor,” Brii says, his voice thick with tears.

“Good.” Because his  _ vod’e _ are dead because of him, Dogma and Fives are dead because of him.  _ Dead _ . Tup tightens his one arm around Brii because that helps, a little, but the hard thing is he hadn't been able to do anything - not against a Sith Lord, and he'd been trapped  _ watching _ , and there's nothing that can fix that.

“But he stabbed Captain Rex and he might be dying, and I think General Skywalker is going to lose a leg and we couldn't save Fives or Dogma, Tup.”

“Okay, it's okay,” Tup says gently, beginning to make soothing circles with his hand over Brii’s shoulder, although his muscles still don't want to  _ move _ . The kid is still very new to this and even Tup hasn't seen anything like this, not since Umbara - and in some ways Umbara was worse because they’d killed their own brothers, and then Krell had destroyed  _ dozens _ of them without blinking.

Brii can't slow his breathing down, it seems, and it's starting to hurt too much, hugging him, so Tup gently pushes him away until his  _ vod _ sits up and some of the pain eases a little. “You saved some of them, remember,” he says quietly. “You made the Duchess stop killing them. That was good,  _ vod _ .”

~~~

Brii  _ knows that, _ knows he saved  _ some, _ he saved the one the Duchess called Click (and he’d seen her leaning on Click, trailed by Commander Cody, when she came into the medbay, so they must be friends?), but a part of him is screaming that it  _ doesn’t matter, _ because he didn’t save the ones who  _ really _ mattered. And he  _ hates _ himself for thinking that way, because they’re all  _ vod’e, _ they’re all his brothers, but Fives and Dogma are his  _ squad. _ Were his squad.

He thinks they’ll probably join the line of glassy-eyed  _ vod’e _ who come for him in his dreams, the ones he killed on Kamino.

“It wasn’t  _ enough,” _ he says instead, because that’s also true and it’s more acceptable than saying some of his brothers are less important than others. “I didn’t save  _ enough.” _

“You did what you could,” Tup says gently, and Brii  _ knows that. _ But it’s still not  _ enough. _

“Did you  _ see _ the Duchess?” he breathes out, instead. “How many do you think she killed before I stopped her?” He can’t help glancing over at where the Duchess is asleep next to General Kenobi--only to see she’s  _ awake, _ and watching him, and looking  _ sick _ and her eyes full of self-loathing.

“Brii,” Tup says firmly, catching his attention, and he’s serious and grave, “the Duchess is a pacifist who abhors killing.”

Brii blinks. “But she--”

“She fought in the last Mandalorian civil war, I heard,” his  _ ori’vod _ explains in a low voice.

Oh.

He thinks he understands why she looks so  _ disgusted _ and revolted, now.

~~~

Tup tries to take a deep breath but it’s like his chest seizes and all he can manage is a shallow struggle of a sigh. “The point is, Brii, you did what you could when she  _ needed _ you and it saved your  _ vod’e _ . If you'd have listened to me when I told you to get in line, this would all be  _ worse _ . And I  _ know _ ” - he shifts a little and pain sparks like fire through his limbs and he gasps - “I know how you feel,  _ ori’vod _ , and it's okay that you feel like that, but you can't stay there.”

Brii frowns and looks down, and Tup closes his eyes for a moment to just  _ breathe _ . He has - had - been telling Fives this for a long time but it hadn't  _ helped _ , but it's what helps Tup and maybe Brii can listen. “But how do I… how do I not?”

Tup hardly knows. He twists his fingers in his blanket (and his skin is too sensitive but it feels grounding anyway) and shrugs, although even that hurts. “I don’t know. I just…  _ vod’e _ always die, Brii,” he says, and that’s a harsh perspective, but it’s how life  _ is _ . “It got too hard blaming myself for the slightest mistake. So I had to stop.”

None of them can  _ ever _ do enough, he thinks - their  _ vod’e _ will always be left to rot on hostile balls of rock because there aren’t enough pyres and graves for them, there will always be thousands of troopers who never come back from campaigns. Until the war is over.

So they  _ can’t _ blame themselves for failing their brothers because, Tup thinks, they always will.

That doesn’t make it better, and it doesn’t make it easier when the brothers he’s failed are so  _ close _ , but it’s enough that he’s able to bear it. Survivor’s guilt is no longer a luxury Tup can afford.

~~~

Brii frowns, nods a little, even though he doesn’t  _ really _ understand; after all, how is he supposed to just-- _ not  _ blame himself? But Tup is tired and hurting and needs to sleep, and Brii thinks his  _ ori’vod _ needs sleep more than Brii needs to not blame himself, so he decides to just… leave the conversation for now. It’ll be fine.

(He doesn’t think Tup  _ believes _ it when Brii says he understands, but… he doesn’t push, and that’s good enough.)

“Do you think the war will be over soon now?” Brii finally asks, quietly, looking down at his  _ vod. _

Tup shrugs a little, just a tiny jerk of his shoulders, and Brii knows it hurts just for him to do that much. “Maybe,” he says. “But what do you think will happen to us when it does?”

Brii frowns, considering that for the first time: the idea that the end of the war might not be a  _ good thing. _

Because what do you do with one-point-eight  _ million _ clones manufactured for war when there’s no longer a war to  _ fight? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _Ne'johaa:_ shut up
> 
>  _udesii:_ calm down


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally (collegefangirl) think this chapter is GREAT haha. You guys know the drill, this story has run away with us entirely but it's fun so we hope you're still along for the ride.
> 
> The line break in the middle is to indicate a time skip of about a month between the last scene and the one following.
> 
> We'd definitely still love to hear from y'all if you like it. ;)

Waking up is easier, after the first time, if not much. It still  _ burns _ but Rex is expecting it, is less tired, and he thinks (as he becomes somewhat aware of himself) that he’s on some strong pain meds.

There are still pangs that the pain meds can’t silence but that’s not- He’s not worrying about that yet. He doesn’t move, because he can tell that pain meds or no, it would  _ hurt _ , and for once there isn’t an urge to get up and check on his men and try to fix everything because it would be  _ too much _ , even if he could walk. Which he knows he can’t, if he can’t even breathe without pain.

Ahsoka is still here. He thinks he’d expected the medics to try to make her go to her own bunk, but apparently not, because her arm is thrown over his chest and he senses she’s asleep, although probably not for long - the slow rhythm of her thoughts is breaking a little, and she almost reaches for him.

There are thick swatches of bandages around one of her shoulders and arms, and the arm over his chest has a bacta patch on it, and he senses a hum of pain from her, just a vague one since she’s still mostly asleep. He eases into her thoughts, trying not to wake her up, because he can feel she needs the sleep. It’s just easier, if he isn’t by himself.

Everything feels  _ sluggish _ , and he doesn’t quite know why because this isn’t how she normally is when she’s sleeping - he tries to settle in close and close his eyes and be  _ still _ , but there’s something tugging at him so he follows it, a cord of fear and guilt, and he hopes it’s okay to because she  _ is _ asleep, but he trusts his instincts.

A series of images hits him so fast he  _ flinches _ , doesn’t know for a moment whether they’re real or in her head or in his own, lurid red and grey and steel. He fixates on the saber, on the new-paint fresh-blood brightness of it, feels terror and horror doubling his own remembered pain - sees his own face twist in a grimace and the Chancellor’s in a contemptuous smile. It’s Ahsoka that’s screaming though, and he thinks he’s seeing through her eyes when he feels a surge of pain-denial-fear. The emotions stab sharp and fast and he thinks he can almost see them, and they’re red too.

He falls and the sound is loud, echoes across Ahsoka’s thoughts, and Rex flinches again, remembers (and Fives’ armor is blinding white, washing out much of the blue), and there’s a feeling of  _ distance _ , of a cable strained past holding, durasteel tension prepared to snap. Inevitable.

When it  _ does _ snap, the bond, the recoil slices sharper than shrapnel and Rex isn’t sure right away whose pain it is he feels until Ahsoka starts  _ sobbing _ . The images narrow to just her, and  _ him _ (and he’s dead, he thinks, thinks the red saber is what started the bond breaking).

_ (Some part of him knows he might be too far into her dream and he should pull back and regroup because he’s scattered.) _

There’s no vagueness or white noise here, Ahsoka is nothing but aware that he’s dead and guilt is sharp and shining and black, flash-flood cold over her head and he  _ understands _ although the intensity of it staggers him. Loss is sharper, and Rex knows that feeling so  _ well _ but here it’s all-encompassing and  _ around _ him, and he can’t control it because it isn’t his own pain. Hells, he’s not sure it’s even all  _ Ahsoka’s _ \- there’s a wailing behind hers that’s older, less contained.

The guilt is saying that’s  _ all  _ her fault, the grief of the Force, her own, the shattered shrapnel-pieces of the bond and Rex almost understands but he doesn’t know why she feels so  _ certain _ , why so  _ much _ is her fault, why in her dream her hands are so  _ vividly _ red, more than the saber.

~~~

Ahsoka stands frozen in the Senate chamber, half-poised on the balls of her feet, dizzy and hissing in pain and everything eclipsed by a desperate  _ need _ to get to the other pod--but she  _ can’t, _ every time she tries she’s just thrown away like, like garbage, like broken parts, easy and effortless and she  _ can’t fight it. _ Sidious stabs Rex, she watches, watches,  _ doesn’t move, _ doesn’t even  _ try, _ she’s just still, so still, because it’s pointless and she can’t get there and the ‘saber glows red, lurid as fresh blood, and the blade cuts deep into Rex’s armor and draws back out, twisting, slow and malicious and  _ dripping _ in blood even though she knows instinctively lightsaber wounds always cauterize. 

_ What a waste, _ he says, and his voice is that smooth-as-silk gravel he’s always used in front of the Senate, but there’s something deeper, darker, dangerous and insidious and  _ purring _ in the back of his throat and it holds her in place even as she struggles to  _ fight, _ to move, to  _ do something, _ because she  _ has to get to him-- _

She feels it coming a half-second before the actual event.

There’s a  _ stretching _ feeling, faint and tense like a thin string stretched to the snapping point, and then it  _ twangs _ like someone’s plucked it with a particularly long fingernail, and the echo reverberates through her skull, sharp  _ pain _ and horror and she clutches at it but it burns her hands and then it  _ shatters, _ the bond snapping under the strain; it whiplashes back against her mind even as there’s an awful  _ ripping _ pain in her head, the place where the bond had been woven deep within the heart of her  _ self _ torn away like an uprooted weed, leaving behind a gaping emptiness like a black hole, and she  _ reaches _ on instinct but there’s just  _ agony _ and  _ nothing _ and it pulls her in, drags her under, she can’t  _ breathe, _ and even as she struggles free of the void where once had been so much  _ warmth _ and  _ life _ the far end of the bond snaps back against her mind, gouges deep into her heart and mind both, and she’s  _ screaming _ somewhere but this pain doesn’t leave a mark, doesn’t leave a scar, except for the scar tissue on her soul.

(And the Force is still  _ twisting _ and writhing as the Jedi die, the  _ vod’e _ killing their Generals and Commanders, killing  _ each other, _ an awful cacophony of horror and pain and rage and terror and  _ despair _ melding with the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, the scent of carbon-blackened durasteel, the sound of shattering glass and screams and plastoid clattering to the floor, turning into a symphony of dust and ash and  _ ending _ playing all in minor chords through her thoughts, every erratic, stumbling beat of her heart the crash of a drum, each short, sharp inhale a cymbal.)

Her vision whites out, the only clear things a splash of lurid crimson, and she thinks it’s Sidious’ lightsaber but then she looks closer and realizes it’s her  _ hands, _ drenched in blood, and she remembers--

_ (He deserves death, does he not? _ and a soft certainty murmuring  _ no, no, no one deserves this.) _

He would be  _ dead _ if she hadn’t stopped it, if she hadn’t stepped in, if she hadn’t  _ saved him, _ and so this is  _ her fault, _ her burden to carry, she  _ killed Rex _ and Fives and Dogma and she  _ killed the Jedi _ and everything that’s happened here is her, her, it’s  _ all her, _ and she’s choking on an ocean of guilt, drowning under the waves of self-loathing and nausea, flailing blindly but unable to swim to the surface. 

Sidious  _ laughs _ and she  _ screams, _ the world tinging red and dark and misty, and she  _ flings _ herself across the distance at him, lets him impale her shoulder with his ‘saber, and then she slices her silver blades through his arms at the shoulders, flips over, decapitates him, but there’s no joy, there’s no relief, Rex is dead and this is  _ all her fault _ and she falls to her knees beside him but there’s  _ nothing, _ he’s  _ gone, _ and he  _ promised _ and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, and she convulsively rejects this reality because it  _ can’t be true _ but she doesn’t wake up like she would if it was a dream, and her head is  _ burning _ and empty and aching and she can’t, she can’t feel him, he’s gone, Rex is  _ gone. _ Gone, gone, gone,  _ her fault, _ and this is real, this is  _ real, _ and she curls up around herself and hugs her knees to her chest and  _ sobs _ because  _ she killed him. _

~~~

Ahsoka’s panic is what finally makes Rex  _ focus _ , what makes the too-vibrant colors of the dream seem less real to him, and he gathers himself and spreads a layer of soft, light warmth over her thoughts, tries to ease into her awareness carefully so he doesn’t scare her, wraps love tight around her circling thoughts and pulls her towards wakefulness. He tries to be  _ gentle _ because she’s already so terrified he doesn’t think waking too fast would be safe - like the sickness you get from surfacing too fast after a long swim.

It’s not enough. He feels the second she actually registers the feel of his thoughts because she grabs onto him,  _ hard _ , and she snaps back awake  _ fast _ , just a few heavy dregs of sleep clinging on and only making it all  _ worse _ .

Her eyes open, and for a second they focus on him before she suddenly yanks her arm from around his chest and rolls onto her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow not quite in time to stifle a sob. Rex shouldn’t, but he twists onto his side (and  _ kriff _ that pain slices hot through the painkillers) and puts his own arm around her, feels her flinch and he can feel her trying to manage the panic but it’s not working and he presses in as near as he can to her thoughts, keeps his arm snug around her torso because he senses she  _ needs _ it. Her sobs come out nearly silent, heaving and uneven and making her tremble, and Rex swallows and starts talking, although at first his voice doesn’t obey him and  _ little gods _ breathing still doesn’t feel right, kriffing hurts. “ _ Udesii, ner’jetii _ . Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here, listen.” He whispers assurances, keeps accidentally falling into Mando’a because it’s easier, it’s how he soothes his  _ vod’e _ , and he isn’t sure whether he’s helping but if he’s talking maybe she’ll actually believe he’s there. “ _ K’uur, udesii _ . I’m okay.”

~~~

Ahsoka wants nothing more than to let Rex wrap her in soothing warmth and love, to burrow into the shelter of his arms and stay there until she can  _ breathe _ again (and she still doesn’t  _ understand, _ she’s awake now but she  _ couldn’t wake up _ before so it couldn’t have been a dream, but it was, and she doesn’t  _ understand), _ but the image of her hands soaked in blood is still imprinted in vivid, too-sharp color on the undersides of her eyelids, everything oversaturated in  _ red, _ and she can’t  _ breathe _ and she knows Rex would  _ help _ but she can’t  _ let him. _

Because it’s  _ her fault _ he’s--dead, not dead, she doesn’t  _ know, _ doesn’t know, can’t tell what’s real and what  _ isn’t _ anymore--but it’s  _ her fault _ and so many Jedi are dead and that’s her fault too, and  _ Fives and Dogma, _ and  _ she did this. _ She did this, she killed him, she doesn’t deserve his comfort, doesn’t deserve to let him hold her close like she’s done nothing wrong. He  _ shouldn’t even want to _ hold her like this, he should  _ hate _ her, she’d  _ killed him. _ Killed Fives. Dogma.  _ Master Plo, _ she remembers vaguely feeling him die, remembers screaming, remembers the pain of his death twisted all up in the electric shock of Sidious’ lightning until one pain was indistinguishable from the other. 

Rex needs to  _ stay away. _ She’s dangerous and guilty and her hands are dripping with the blood of his  _ vod’e _ and he shouldn’t--he shouldn’t still  _ love her. _

_ Go away, get out, _ she tries to send, shoves at his presence in her mind, though her shields are cracked and weak and there’s too much  _ panic _ and  _ guilt _ and sheer self-loathing seeping through, but that doesn’t  _ matter, _ he needs to  _ get out _ before she burns him up to ash. She twists, tries to get away from his arm, but a part of her  _ panics _ at that, screaming in bloody, sharp-edged terror, and he tightens his grip on her, doesn’t  _ let her go, _ even though he  _ needs to, _ he  _ should, _ he needs to  _ get away. _ She squirms a little, tries to fight, but he just pins her down, shifts a little even though it must  _ hurt _ so that some of his body weight is keeping her held still on the bunk.

Why won’t he just  _ let go? _

~~~

She’s trying to push him out of her head, and if Rex couldn’t sense all the guilt and fear behind her shields he would let her - but he can tell she  _ needs _ his closeness so he stays stubbornly pressed against her thoughts and keeps her more or less pinned to the bunk, switches from talking to a steady projection of nearness and love because talking really does  _ hurt _ . She stops trying to leave, which he’s grateful for because he hurts and he’d get tired, fast, if she insisted on trying to pull away from him.

Her shields are paper-thin and her emotions bleed past them easily, and it’s choking him how much she’s hating herself, telling herself she needs to  _ go _ and he doesn’t understand why because he  _ knows _ she’s terrified of not being able to feel him and she’s still trying to make him back off and he doesn’t understand.

He leans his forehead against her montrals, tightens his arm around her as much as he dares without hurting either of them, and tries to figure out what to do because she’s still crying and why does she feel like she has to  _ leave _ and why isn’t she letting herself stay  _ close _ \- it doesn’t make sense except for the heavy, sharp guilt and some vague impression of  _ get away  _ like it’s a warning and he doesn’t  _ know what’s happening _ and he can’t think straight because he’s in pain and he’s tired.

_ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum _ , he says, gently.  _ Can you… _ He hesitates, doesn’t know if he should ask now or wait, but-  _ Can you try to talk to me, Soka? _ He’s exhausted and he just wants to understand because he can’t help and he can’t even really move very well and thinking is hard, but if he at least knew what was  _ wrong _ , had some concrete idea. He tries to project an impression that it’s okay if she can’t, and patience.

~~~

Ahsoka  _ flinches, _ can’t help it.  _ You say that now, but you didn’t before, _ and she’s not really  _ trying _ to project but her shields are all a mess and everything’s all gone so  _ wrong _ and she doesn’t even know where she went  _ wrong, _ what even  _ happened, _ everything’s been a blur since Anakin came storming into the barracks.  _ You didn’t say it back,  _ but that’s okay,  _ you shouldn’t, shouldn’t,  _ it’s all  _ her fault _ and he shouldn’t  _ love her. _

She’s still shaking, though her sobs are less actual tears and more just heaving breaths she can’t control, but she keeps her head pressed into the pillow anyway, won’t look at Rex. She  _ can’t. _ She can’t look, can’t see the betrayal and pain and hurt and hatred in his eyes when he realizes  _ she’s the reason Fives and Dogma are dead, _ and the Jedi, and her mind is running in circles, like that old symbol, the snake swallowing its own tail, but she can’t  _ stop it. _ She can’t  _ think _ and everything’s still sluggish and  _ heavy _ and she thinks she can feel the sedative still weighing her veins down, kriff Kix, he needs to stop sedating her. She just wants to  _ feel Rex _ again but--

But she  _ can’t, _ and she has to keep reminding herself that, because it’s taking all her willpower to keep from collapsing into his head and hiding in his love. She has to  _ remember, _ she has to, she can’t hurt him again, she can’t do this, all she does is  _ hurt him. _ (Umbara, all she’d done was make things worse, she hadn’t protected his men, hadn’t protected  _ him, _ had failed them all; Kadavo she’d just been a tool to ensure his  _ compliance, _ and then she’d Fallen and gone Dark and he’d had to  _ save her, _ pull her out; on Kamino she’d  _ said the words, _ she’d left Sidious alive and she’d triggered the chip, she’d almost made him  _ kill her, _ she couldn’t protect him and she’d been  _ useless _ and she’d almost died and she hadn’t made sure the chips were all removed; Cato Neimoidia she’d thought she was  _ protecting him, _ but all she’d done was get him almost  _ reconditioned _ and he’d thought he was going to lose himself and so he’d said things he didn’t want to say, and all she does is  _ hurt him _ and she  _ can’t do this.) _

~~~

Ahsoka feels like she’s drowning and her thoughts are running so fast out of control Rex mostly only picks up snippets, but it’s enough. She thinks he shouldn’t love her, she thinks it’s her fault he’s hurt and her fault the Jedi died and her fault Kadavo broke him and her fault her squad attacked her on Kamino and he doesn’t know how he’s never felt this from her before, doesn’t know how to answer it. There’s more grief in him today, he thinks, than anything else; grief for his  _ vod’e  _ and now grief that Ahsoka believes she hurts him, believes this is all her fault.

_ Soka, those things happened because _ \- a tired part of him volunteers  _ because of kriffing assholes _ but that doesn’t seem like the most productive thing to say -  _ because we’re at war and we have enemies and they’re trying their damnedest to hurt us. _

_ But they couldn’t have-  _ she starts to protest, and he cuts her off.

_ You’ve always helped, Soka, and it isn’t your fault if people twist it and try to use you, anymore than it’s my men’s fault that the Chancellor put chips in their brains _ . He knows how she feels, about Kadavo, especially, but she can’t think it’s  _ her _ fault the Zygerrians twisted  _ everything _ (and he still can’t really think about that too much so he moves on).  _ It’s not up to you if I ‘should’ love you, by the way. _ He can’t kriffing tell if he’s getting through at all, but he thinks at least if he’s  _ talking  _ and she’s listening, it’s better. He projects his love as strong as he can, a little of his desperation to make her see he doesn’t blame her, never has, because maybe if he can show her enough of it, she’ll see that his love hasn’t ever been dependent on her saving him or making sure he wasn’t hurt or anything shallow like that.

~~~

No. No, no, no, he doesn’t  _ understand, _ he doesn’t  _ see it, _ he’s not  _ listening, _ and Ahsoka has to pull back, slam up shields even though they’re weak and not good, because his stupid  _ love _ is washing over her, wrapping her in a blanket of warmth and certainty, and she can’t let herself--she can’t  _ feel it _ or she won’t be able to do this. Won’t be able to make him go, make him see. 

And he  _ has _ to see.

So she shoves the memory, the one of her saving, saving,  _ Sidious, _ saving the  _ Sith Master, _ the one who killed them all, says,  _ my fault, my fault, I did this, I don’t deserve-- _ and she cuts that off quickly because she didn’t mean to send that.  _ Rex, you have to just go, go before you get killed, before I get you killed for real, _ although a part of her almost still thinks  _ this _ is the dream, the fever dream her brain and the Force concocted to save her from the pain of the shattered bond.

~~~

She pushes a memory at him and it's tainted with guilt and grief, but as it flashes across his vision he still finds himself stunned, a little awed at it. The vicious anger of the Dark is there, and stern rationality, and the Dark is trying to tear the Chancellor into a thousand shattered, bleeding pieces and he agrees with the anger, that would be justice, but… But Ahsoka feels like herself, like warmth and softness and fiery certainty and she thinks this isn't justice, it's too cruel even for  _ him _ , and he wonders if it's part of the memory or if it's his perception that she's  _ radiant _ when she steps into the hurricane that is the Dark (and now he understands the pain that called him to reach for her in the storm), and her memory echoes with strength and a desperate shout into the wind:  _ I forgive you! _ And she doesn't stop, reaches into the Dark and says she  _ knows _ , she  _ loves _ , she  _ forgives _ , and this part of the memory chokes with her guilt but Rex can still feel that wild, unchecked love and Light and it's his  _ Soka _ , sure and certain and he doesn't  _ understand _ how she forgives and saves but…

_ Force, Soka,  _ he says, and she starts talking about getting him killed and it being her  _ fault _ and he doesn't even care. He tightens his arm around her, presses a series of wondering kisses to her headtail, presses back against her guilt with the awe and disbelief and  _ love _ he feels because she's somehow always been like that. She'd forgiven him after Kadavo and not stopped loving him when he thought he was a coward, and she has been so angry before but that isn't  _ her _ , she's his Soka.

He clings onto his own memory of the love he felt when she saved the Chancellor and tries to project that same feeling at her, kisses her bandaged shoulder. He doesn't  _ understand _ but he doesn't have to understand to know he  _ loves her _ for her compassion.

_ You're amazing, Soka,  _ he thinks, soft.

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t  _ understand. _

How can he _not_ hate her, or at least not want to love her anymore? _But--Fives and Dogma,_ she tries, weakly, because she’s so _tired_ and Rex being here, being _close,_ is what she’s been desperate for ever since Sidious’ awful lightsaber stabbed into Rex’s stomach and he _fell._ _They’re dead--you were angry at me--you didn’t say it_ ** _back,_** and she doesn’t _understand._

_ I wasn’t angry at you, _ he says, and that doesn’t make sense,  _ I didn’t want to be awake, to admit that they were… dead. I didn’t mean to not say it back. _

_ But-- _

He cuts her off with a gentle wave of warm love and compassion, and she lifts her face from the pillow, rolls to look at him, because she doesn’t  _ understand. _ There’s so much  _ awe _ in his eyes and she wants to hide from it, but she  _ can’t. _

~~~

_You know, I have been stabbed in the stomach_ , he says lightly, ignores the wave of pain that accompanies the reminder. _You forget things sometimes when you've been impaled._ _I'm sorry I didn't say it, though_. He shifts a little so he's not pinning her down anymore, but leaves his arm draped over her middle.

He can tell she doesn't understand, and she doesn't totally seem to believe him, so he presses his forehead to hers like he would one of his  _ vod’e _ and hums a little, starts rubbing her back, hand tracing up and down her spine.

_ But I don't… You should be angry, Rex _ , she says, and he sighs a little, shakes his head.

_ Soka, I couldn't hate you, and you  _ **_know_ ** _ that.  _ He'd known after Kadavo, just… you also forget things when you've been broken, and he understands.  _ I can't pretend to understand  _ how  _ you forgave him, but I'm… It wouldn't have been right otherwise, I think. Like it wouldn't have been right for me to kill Krell or for you to kill Agruss. _ And war is supposed to mean you do what's necessary, what's unpleasant, but Rex stopped thinking that way some time ago because there are some lines he cannot cross, some things they can't do.

Like Dogma disobeying the order because, as he told Rex later, he made a promise.

~~~

Ahsoka almost can't believe him, but she can't keep herself away from him any longer, not with the terror of losing him still fresh and bloody in her mind. So she shakes her head, thinks,  _ I don't understand _ as she presses closer to him.

In response, Rex shows her the aftermath of Kadavo, the latenight confrontation where he'd realised that everything he'd done to try to keep her from hating him, to keep him from losing her, had just pushed her away.  _ Don't make the same mistake, _ he hums to her, and she closes her eyes against a sob and curls up against him, dropping her shields.

The guilt is still heavy and stifling, but she lets him _ see it _ anyway, lets his love rush warm and soothing over the residual pain of the broken bond.  _ I love you, Rex, _ she breathes.  _ So much. _

~~~

_ I know _ , he thinks.  _ I love you too _ . It's easier to  _ breathe _ now, a little, although the throbbing pain in his stomach says the pain meds might be wearing off and that scares him.

Guilt still permeates her thoughts, black and shining and choking, but at least she's staying now, fingers skimming along the edges of his bandages, forehead pressed against his collarbone. He focuses on her and the pattern of her emotions, mostly so he can be sure she's okay, but partly because he still doesn't want to think about his men dying. “Are the rest of them alright?” he asks quietly. The rest of his squad - has he lost anyone else? And maybe he shouldn’t ask her that  _ now _ but he  _ has  _ to know.

Ahsoka sniffs and swallows. “I think so.”

Rex lets out a soft, trembling sigh, relieved, and presses his hand closer against her back so it doesn’t shake so much. It’s still too much loss, and he thinks it’s far worse than just their battalions but for now the med bay is soft, dim light and the deep stillness of night after pain, and he needs to  _ not think _ . Ahsoka needs him still.

There will be enough, and far too much, time to feel it all later, how the less of his men, his friends, his  _ brothers _ gnaws sharp where it always does.

He keeps love soothing soft over the most ashamed of her thoughts, interjecting actual words if he needs to, and fights to ignore how much he’s starting to  _ hurt _ again. Enough that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep without more painkillers. He thinks Ahsoka notices, because her crying has subsided to unsteady breaths and a few tears still, and she sends a general questioning concern (and her guilt surges stronger and he soothes it again).

_ It’s fine _ , he says. He can do without more painkillers for a while yet, and if he says he needs them she’ll get up to get a medic and he thinks she needs more time before she tries to do anything.  _ Like I said, I’ve been stabbed. It’s going to hurt _ . That amuses him more than it should, it’s just that precious little is  _ okay _ and the Chancellor’s face and his hand holding Ahsoka in the air, choking, is so hard to forget. It’s easier to laugh.

~~~

Ahsoka hides her face against his chest, trying to be careful; she can feel a vague echo of the burning pain in his abdomen, and it makes her  _ sick _ with shame, even though Rex keeps soothing her with a steady projection of love.  _ I’m sorry, _ she says, even though he hushes her gently, lightly runs his fingers down her back headtail.  _ I should’ve stopped him-- _

_ You couldn’t, Soka, _ he hums quietly, and she  _ knows that _ but what if she could’ve tried harder, made it through his Force-pushes?  _ Stop, _ and she realizes he’s caught the edge of her spinning thoughts,  _ please. You did everything you could, and he’s dead. _

She  _ knows. _

It doesn’t make anything better.

Ahsoka shifts, twisting a little, and the arm bound to her torso catches on--something, she’s not sure what, and  _ tugs-- _ and that’s how she finds out the painkillers she’s on are probably wearing off too, because there’s molten-hot  _ pain _ stabbing through her shoulder, almost as livid and bloody as the lightsaber blade itself, and she hisses through her teeth and struggles to stifle a faint whimper.  _ Tell me about it, _ she says dryly, projecting a brief flicker of the memory of Sidious stabbing her.  _ Ow. _

He’s  _ right, _ in a way; it’s easier to laugh about everything.

But that  _ kriffing hurts, _ and she’s almost surprised Kix or Tuck hasn’t materialized yet to scold her and give them both more meds--she swears Kix uses the Force to tell when she or Rex is doing something (or about to do something) that’s against his orders.

~~~

Kix had finally gotten Tuck to sleep, without a sedative, just after midnight, after most of the medics had left. General Obi-Wan and Rex and Anakin and some of the more badly injured  _ vod’e _ all have small teams of medics specifically keeping an eye on them; since Kix had reprimanded the medics about Rex and Ahsoka, he finds himself shunted into the position of being the one chiefly responsible for them, with a few medics hanging around him. He thinks they don’t know what to do with him and it’s almost funny, how awkward they are.

It’s probably because of how harsh he’d gotten, but he wasn’t going to let them keep separating Rex and Ahsoka when they clearly needed each other.

He’s staying attuned to the Force around them, in case they need him, although he tries not to pay too much attention because he can feel guilt and fear and all their emotions and he wants to give them some measure of privacy - although he almost marches over when he feels a flicker of pain and looks over to see kriffing Rex  _ moving _ and he wants to go tell him to kriffing  _ lie still _ but he refrains because Rex settles before long. (And because Ahsoka feels so guilty and hurt and Kix thinks he has to just let them  _ talk _ and he can’t help anyway, he’d tried and he doesn’t think it had done much good.)

It isn’t until he starts feeling mounting pain from Rex (and then a sharp stab from Ahsoka) that he decides he needs to get them meds and tell them to stop aggravating their injuries. He let them be together so they would do  _ better _ , not hurt themselves further. He sighs, unfolds himself from his plastoid chair, and quickly fills a pair of syringes with the painkiller, fingers steady. Then he pads over to their bunk, Rex’s head snapping up before Kix would have thought his Captain could have noticed him (although Rex gets hypervigilant when he’s injured, which is… inconvenient).

“Hey,” Kix says softly, because it’s night and his patients need to stay sleeping if they can. “You both need to be more careful. And you’re due for more meds.” He thinks it’s only years of experience (and thorough knowledge of the face he and Rex share) that lets him catch a flicker of deep relief before Rex smiles almost nonchalantly.

“Thanks, Kix,” he says, and Kix sighs, reaches for his Captain’s arm and twisting it so he can access a vein.

“Of course,  _ vod _ .” He smiles a little at Ahsoka, who doesn’t look good at all, tries to pretend he has no idea that she’s been crying, even though her eyes are puffy and red and tired and there’s wetness on her cheeks. “You could do without more painkillers for another hour or so, unless you need them?”

She nods and seems to hesitate, but, “I think I need some.”

“Okay.” Kix slides the needle into Rex’s arm and presses the plunger of the syringe easy and smooth, pulls it free, sets it aside and moves around to do Ahsoka.

He senses Rex’s relief as even a little of the medicine kicks in, and that’s good - with luck, the two will go back to sleep soon. Kix needs them  _ resting _ , more than anything. He’s not so sure Ahsoka will be as calm, with or without pain meds, but he’s just going to do what he can and  _ hope _ . He nudges her shoulder, a silent instruction, and she shifts onto her back so he can reach for the arm that isn’t bandaged to her chest and give her the shot. “There you go, Commander,” he says, twists his lips in a wry smile. “Please, just stop  _ moving _ so much.” He lets the Force push behind his words, even though he suspects it will work on neither of them - at least it will tell them how serious he is.

~~~

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow at Kix, when she feels the hint of Force-suggestion in his voice; she’s tired enough, her shields low enough, that it actually affects her a bit, though she’s aware enough to push the influence to the side. “Rex’s fault,” she says, hums a bit. The morphine is already starting to make its way through her system, dulling the knife-edge pain in her shoulder and turning the guilt and sick horror to a numb haze of false tranquility, and she nestles against Rex without really thinking, though she retains enough presence of mind to avoid his injury.

Kix doesn’t believe her. “Right,” he says dryly, and she can  _ hear _ him rolling his eyes. “Of course. Well, I don’t  _ care _ whose fault it is, just  _ go to sleep.” _

She grumbles a bit, lets her eyes fall closed--it’s suddenly too much energy to keep them open. “Stop kriffing sedating me,” she mutters into Rex’s chest.

Kix  _ sighs. _ “Only if you promise to  _ actually sleep,” _ he says tiredly. “I promise Rex isn’t going to die if you close your eyes.”

Kriff ,she hadn’t wanted Rex to know she’d fought Kix about that.

~~~

Rex frowns a little, because he thinks if Kix had to sedate her, that means she was too panicked to sleep. And that doesn’t  _ quite _ surprise him - he knows her after all, knows sleep feels dangerous sometimes - but it does make him wonder  _ how _ panicked she’d been, and whether she really still thinks he’s going to die.

He doesn’t  _ feel _ like he is, although he hurts. And breathing is hard. And he’s not supposed to move. But Kix has let her be with him so it must be alright.

Still, he supposes that’s easier said than felt.

“I know that,” Ahsoka grumbles, a sigh ghosting across his skin. “I’m gonna sleep, Kix,” she says, and Rex hears a hint of a thought, something she wants to say:  _ go away _ . He smiles a little.

“Fine.” Kix gives Rex a look, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes of it. “I’ll be here if either of you need me,” he says, and Rex shifts his focus back to Ahsoka.

_ I’m going to be okay, _ he says,  _ and if you have another nightmare I’ll wake you up again _ . That means no shields tonight, but there are worse things. Like her panicking again because she thinks he’s dead and out of her reach. He’ll just have to hope that he has no nightmares, because then she’ll see them too, and that would hardly make this better. He might be too tired for dreams.

~~~

_ Okay, _ Ahsoka hums, presses her mind close to him and drops her shields. She's _ tired. _ (As soon as she _ hurts _ less, she's going to be annoyed at Kix for using painkillers to get her to sleep.) And Rex is warm and steady beside her, and he  _ doesn't hate her, _ and he's not dead.

She likes that he's not dead.

_ Love you, Rexter, _ she thinks softly, smiles a little.

~~~

_ Love you too, Soka _ , he answers, swallows so he can take a deeper breath against the fading pain. He fits his arm around her shoulders again, kisses her forehead. He is too tired to think, really, too tired to do anything but wait for the pain to subside and hold Ahsoka close.

His grief is harder to ignore when there's nothing to think about but sleep. He's familiar with it - grief is an old friend, practically a brother - but tonight he feels so  _ heavy  _ because everyone else that has been lost, not just a few people, not even just his battalion. The 212th, the battalions stationed on Coruscant, the Jedi; in fact, from what he's seen in Ahsoka's thoughts he thinks all his brothers were affected by the order, thinks today was a day for Jedi and  _ vod’e _ alike to die, and that… He doesn't know how to think about that, about so  _ many _ dead at once at the word of one sick man.

But even those sorts of thoughts can't keep him awake for long, not with the painkillers and the weakness that comes with injury weighing down his thoughts, and he closes his eyes, lets sleep come heavy and crowd out what pain is left in his torso, although it can't quite silence the loss.

* * *

 

“Well?” The blue-armored figure doesn't turn, instead staying facing the large window looking out over the Concordia encampment.

“It's true,” the other says softly. “Maul intends to ally our forces with Dooku, and he will not give us control of our planet.”

The figure nods, seemingly unsurprised by this news, though through the helmet their voice is emotionless. “Sith Lords rarely keep their promises,” they say. “Did you get it?”

“Yes.” The warrior steps forward, extends their hand, a rectangular grey hilt held in their open palm. “We will follow you.”

The figure reaches up with gauntleted hands, pulls off their helmet to reveal short-cropped red hair and vivid green eyes set in a pale, angular face. The look in her eyes could almost be described as  _ hungry, _ though Bo-Katan Kryze would disagree. She reaches out, takes the hilt from the warrior, looks down, and one would have to be a Jedi to notice the slightest hesitation before she takes a deep breath and ignites the darksaber.

The warrior drops to their knees, says again, “We will follow you,” and then he looks up and adds, “Mand’alor.”

…

Yes, Bo-Katan  _ does _ have a plan, as she quickly informs anyone who asks. Maul is  _ dar’manda, _ not worthy of the darksaber nor the title of _ Mand'alor _ nor the allegiance of the Death Watch. And, though Bo-Katan is a warrior and a follower of the old ways, she is _ sick and tired _ of the Sith thinking the  _ Mando'ade _ are so easily controlled, manipulated.  _ No more. _

And, while the Jedi are irritating, she's mostly ambivalent to most of them, content to leave them be as long as they return the favor--and the Jedi have the added advantages of being familiar with disposing of the Sith, having an army of clones of a former Mand'alor,  _ and _ the Duchess’ allegiance. (Not that just any Jedi will be acceptable, and Bo-Katan could care less about the Council.)

The Jedi have long been the enemies of true  _ Mando’ade _ , but she's beginning to see that compromises must be made to achieve a common goal, and Dooku and Maul must die. So it is with a grim determination and the darksaber clearly visible on her belt that Bo-Katan, a contingent of twenty of her best warriors an honor guard behind her, approaches the Temple.

A few clones guard the entrance, which is really _ pointless, _ because if she wanted to invade their numbers aren't enough to stop her, but she halts just outside the doors.

After what the Sith have done to the Jedi (their numbers halved, an extermination that would've succeeded had it not been for the Togruta, Tano), she thinks they will accepted her offer.

After all, the Jedi _ need _ help.

“I'm here to speak with my sister,” Bo-Katan says firmly, “as well as Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, and Commander Tano. I have a proposition they will be interested in hearing.”

“Your sister?” one of the guards asks, and she nods firmly.

“Duchess Satine Kryze.”

~~~

When the guard tells Satine that her  _ sister _ and the Death Watch have come to see her, Cody can see the significance of that in the way she goes perfectly still, keeps herself icy and aloof and folds her hands in front of her. Cody has spent enough time with her recently to know - and he does similar things himself. His General had told him one day, when he’d convinced the Duchess to go eat something, that he needed Cody to keep an eye on her. Cody knows his General well enough to know that that’s Obi-Wan’s way of trying to help them both, and he isn’t sure how he feels about that. Mostly, he tries not to think about it.

“Did she explain why?” she asks, coolly.

The guard shakes his head. “She said she had a proposition for yourself, General Skywalker, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano, but she wouldn’t say what it was. She brought warriors with her, Duchess.”

“Does she seem like she’s going to attack?” Cody asks, because he must, of course. The Death Watch is still a terrorist threat.  
“I don’t know, sir. I don’t think so.”

Cody thinks this reeks of an assassination attempt - the Death Watch has wanted to kill Satine for some time and sending her sister claiming she wants to speak to her… This is not a good idea, and he knows his General will back him up. They need to send the terrorists back to where they came from, with force if necessary.

“All due respect, Duchess, but we should turn them away,” he says, taps his wristcomm intending to call Obi-Wan and General Skywalker about it.

“When I last saw her,” Satine says, steadily, “she wouldn’t even acknowledge knowing me. If she came asking to see me as her sister-”

“All the more reason to believe this is a trap,” Cody says. He’s not letting his General and Satine and Skywalker and Tano meet with her, not without strong conditions at the very least. He  _ wants _ to send her off-world without so much as a token apology, because he doesn’t  _ trust _ them and he isn’t going to fail his General in this and endanger his Duchess.

Satine sighs and gives him an understanding look. “I think we should speak with her, nonetheless. I am sure you and General Kenobi are capable of minimizing the threat, are you not?”

“Minimizing, but not eliminating, Duchess.” There are always elements that cannot be controlled, and the Death Watch are old  _ Mando’ade _ , warriors with resources and skills from generations of warfare at their disposal. “Let me discuss it with General Kenobi before we send her an answer. Please.”

“Very well, Cody,” Satine says. “Keep it quick, if you would please.”

He nods - there’s a small squad of terrorists outside their door, he hardly needs to be told to hurry.

General Kenobi is not allowed to walk. He’s been confined to a wheelchair if he must be out of bed, and is still in physical therapy to help him get used to moving again, breathing properly. Cody’s shot should have killed him, and recovery has been slow. Cody finds him in a hall near the med bay, sitting and staring out the windows of the Temple at Coruscant. Obi-Wan isn’t allowed a wristcomm yet, which Cody thinks is because the medics want to make sure he isn’t disturbed when he’s resting or in therapy.

“General,” he says, stopping a few feet away, and Obi-Wan turns and gives him a tired smile.

“Cody. What do you need?”

Cody still finds he can’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes these days, although he wishes he could. He masks it by staring out the window too, spine straight, pretending to watch the scene intently. “Sir, a contingent of Death Watch warrior have come to the Temple. Their leader is apparently Bo-Katan Kryze, the Duchess’ sister, and she insists on speaking to her, Skywalker, Tano, and yourself. I don’t believe we should let her stay, sir, but Duchess Kryze wants to entertain her desire to talk.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan sighs, heavily, and Cody wishes he didn’t have to bring this to his General. It is war, though, and there is no time for them to spend on wishing. While Obi-Wan always pushes himself far too much, it is true that waiting for total recovery is not a luxury most of them can afford. “Perhaps we could send her warriors home, or detain them, or require them to remain on their ship. I believe we could take enough precautions…” But Obi doesn’t sound certain, and Cody thinks he understands. This woman is Satine’s  _ vod _ , and apparently they’ve been apart for a long time - but she’s also one of the people who’ve been threatening Mandalore and trying to kill Satine for a long time.

“Probably, sir,” Cody says, reluctantly. There is enough of a risk, however, that he doesn’t want to take it. But it’s not up to him, and Obi-Wan is aware enough of the dangers - Cody doesn’t need to remind him. “The Death Watch is waiting for an answer and Satine said to be quick - should I comm General Skywalker?”

Obi-Wan sighs, rubs his forehead. “Yes. Tell them that if Bo-Katan is willing to send her warriors back to her ship and submit to a thorough search, we will discuss things with her. She must allow us to have a squad with us, as well.”

Cody nods sharply and starts to turn away to tell Satine and not have to look at his General sitting pale and tired in his chair, but Obi stops him. “Cody,” and he makes himself look back and tilt his head to show he’s listening. “Cody, does she seem alright?”

“She always does,” Cody says shortly, wryly.

“I know.”

“I think she’s afraid and… hoping, sir.”

Obi-Wan sighs, smiles a little. “Of course. Tell Anakin to come meet me here.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody turns again, fast, and makes his escape before his General can ask him anything else. The Duchess needs his answer and he doesn’t want to be here.

~~~

“No,” Bo-Katan says flatly, when the Temple guard comes back with the message:  _ we will discuss things with you if you send your warriors back to your ship and submit to a thorough search; we will have a squad with us. _ “They may bring their own warriors, I care not about that,” and she waves one gauntleted hand casually, pretends not to notice the way the trooper flinches a bit. “But I will not send my warriors away. I am  _ trusting _ the Jedi, and I expect them to return that trust, or this won’t  _ work.” _

The poor trooper just  _ looks _ at her, and Bo-Katan can’t help but wish (a little) that she could see the expression on his face. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounds not at  _ all _ sorry, more  _ terrified, _ “but General Kenobi’s instructions were quite clear: you agree to the conditions or you leave.”

Bo-Katan ignores that. “If I was going to attack, I wouldn’t walk up to the front door of the  _ Jedi Temple,” _ she says bitingly, rolls her eyes beneath her helmet, and she reaches to her belt, unhooks the darksaber (the guard  _ flinches _ and his blaster is trained on her before she can do a thing). “Oh, stand  _ down. _ Do you know what this is, trooper?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, just continues. “Tell my sister I come as  _ Mand’alor, _ with news regarding Maul and Dooku.”

~~~

Rex stands by Anakin's shoulder, arms crossed over his chest, regulating his breathing in the hopes that Kix will stop staring at him with that look of  _ concern _ . He has very strict rules about what he's allowed to do, and being part of a guard in case of an assassination attempt is pushing it. Anakin is still in physical therapy to get him used to his new prosthetic, although he seems more or less acclimated, Ahsoka’s arm is still in a sling, and General Kenobi is in a wheelchair.

They don't exactly have the upper hand here, even with three (almost four, if he counts Kix) Jedi.

Bo-Katan (the  _ Mand’alor, _ apparently) has at least agreed to leave most of her men behind, but an honor guard of Mandalorian warriors might be more than Rex and his  _ vod’e _ can handle.

Ahsoka sends him a light wave of reassurance, and he accepts him with a hum of gratefulness although he's not really very anxious. Just wary. He shares Cody’s opinion that this is a trap, so he keeps his hands settled on his modified DCs and stays as still and steady as he can so he doesn't aggravate his still-healing stomach.

The room is old enough that the door is an ornate wooden one with hinges, and when it creaks, the whole room turns toward it. Rex notes that Duchess Satine twists her hands together briefly before folding them together, going still.

He is tense himself, purely because his gut tells him if this comes to a fight, they'll be outmatched - and it's strange, but he's daunted at the idea of seeing the Death Watch. Mandalore is not his home, but he and his  _ vod’e _ have adopted their language and customs, the old, warlike ones. There's some kind of kinship there that he's never tried to define - dealing with Duchess Satine has never made him feel anxious like this, because she is a pacifist and nobility.

These people are warriors, terrorists or no, and Rex isn't sure how he feels about all of it, about the idea of hearing his first language from people other than his  _ vod’e _ .

It doesn't ultimately matter how he feels about it, though, he decides as the Temple guard steps into the room, followed by about ten warriors with the Death Watch sigil on their pauldrons. He has other things to worry about.

~~~

Bo-Katan looks around the room from behind her helmet’s HUD, takes in the fully-armored troopers--eight of them, she counts, all with the same battle-stance she knows her chosen ten warriors possess: the mark of an experienced soldier. One trooper has a medic’s insignia on his upper arm, and a lightsaber hilt on his belt, which is--interesting. 

The three Jedi are all in varying states of convalescence; Kenobi is in a wheelchair, Skywalker is fiddling with a prosthetic leg, and Tano has an arm in a sling. She  _ knows _ these three to be some of the best warriors the Jedi have ever produced, and the sight of them  _ all _ still deep in recovery from the fight with the former Chancellor in the Senate is… well, it’s  _ humbling, _ if she’s being honest with herself. 

She’s distracted herself from the person she’s  _ mostly _ here to see for as long as she can; now, Bo-Katan has almost no  _ choice _ but to let her gaze shift to Satine, regal and imperious, cold and icy in a simple but lovely dress, her hair done up. Her sister has the familiar politician’s mask on, though her light blue eyes are nervous and conflicted and her hands tightly folded. Bo-Katan watches the other for a long moment, then in a single fluid motion she reaches up and removes her helmet.  _ Every _ one of the clone troopers has their blasters trained on her before she’s even completed the motion, and she rolls her eyes. “Honestly,” she says, signals her warriors to stand down, knowing they have their own weapons readied at the first sign of hostility. “If I wanted her dead, I would hardly march into the Temple and ask for three Jedi.”

“You claimed to have information on Dooku,” Skywalker says, voice hard, eyes harder, and she sighs.

“Yes. He has allied with Maul and Savage--who have taken over Mandalore, with that  _ aruetii _ Vizla’s help. Vizla is dead now,” she adds, gritting her teeth, trying not to snarl. She fails, spits out a few choice swears in Mando’a, and then takes a deep breath, calms herself. “Maul intended to use our warriors to reinforce Dooku, as though the  _ Kyr’tsad _ would obey  _ dar’jetii _ after the last time.  _ Mando’ad draar digu,” _ and she murmurs the proverb under her breath, though she knows the entire room still hears.

“What do you want, Bo-Katan?” Satine’s voice is quiet, but it rings like a bell through the room, draws every eye to her (Kenobi is  _ worried, _ of course he is, Satine is his  _ cyar’ika, _ Bo-Katan remembers that).

Well. If blunt is the way she’s going to be… “I want the Sith  _ dead,” _ Bo-Katan says sharply, takes a step forward. “So do the Jedi. We are willing to work with Generals Kenobi and Skywalker and Commander Tano, as you three are the closest allies of our Duchess, Lady Kryze, Regent of Mandalore.” Satine’s face shifts, the mask failing, as she seems to  _ finally _ realize what Bo-Katan is suggesting. “Regent and  _ Mand’alor _ united, working together for the good of all  _ mando’ade, _ whether new or old,  _ Kyr’tsad _ or not, like the old days.”

“Unite the clans,” Satine murmurs, soft and almost  _ longing, _ and Bo-Katan  _ knows _ her sister will agree. It was once their dream, after all.

(Once upon a time, when they were both young, before Vizla had seduced her with his tales of true  _ mando’ade, _ she and her older sister had whispered dreams of uniting the clans, the politician and the warrior; then the war had come, and her initiation to the ranks of the  _ Kyr’tsad _ had been to prove her loyalty by killing her old family that she might join her new family, and those dreams had shattered like glass.)

Bo-Katan nods, smiles just a little. “Indeed.  _ Haat, ijaa, haa’it,” _ and she salutes, the old warriors’ salute, her guard following her example.

~~~

Rex thinks the salute is premature, the phrase too - they’ve hardly agreed to anything yet, but even he can see the Duchess wants to make this alliance, and Rex has to admit it sounds like a genuine offer, potentially a good idea. So far they’ve heard that some half of the GAR is dead (and every time the number changes Rex feels sicker), and Separatist attacks have shot up in frequency and intensity, which Rex  _ hopes  _ they can chalk up to desperation.

They need help.

_ I don’t trust her, _ he says to Ahsoka.  _ They’re terrorists still. And I’m not sure she’s saying everything she wants out of this deal yet _ . He likes the idea of killing the Sith, sure, and having strong allies that can help them win, but he fully expects there to be a catch. There always is.

_ I know, but…  _ Ahsoka’s mind seems pulled between two opinions and out of the corner of his eyes he sees her lift her good shoulder in a tiny shrug.  _ She seems like she’s being honest, at least. And we need Dooku and Maul and Savage gone. _

Rex sends a cautious thread of agreement.

General Kenobi strokes his beard, frowning, and meets the Duchess’ eyes for a moment. “I appreciate your forthrightness,  _ Mand’alor _ ,” he says, deferentially. “It’s a good suggestion, and I’m sure that would be good for Mandalore. However, we must consider how it will look for the Jedi to ally themselves with known terrorists. Now is not a good time for us to lose the people’s trust.”

Bo-Katan’s lips curl in a small sneer and Rex thinks that warriors make bad politicians for just this reason. They’re too honest. “You haven’t had it for some time, Kenobi, and while this war drags on it will stay that way.” Her eyes flick over their group, appraising, and Rex tenses a little on instinct. “Much of your Order is dead and so is your army. You’re in no position to refuse help for the sake of idealistic principles.”

That is technically true, but Rex still finds indignation straightening his spine, because he knows how they look, injured and tired, and he knows many of his  _ vod’e _ are dead, and the Jedi somewhat scattered, but he doesn’t really appreciate her shoving their noses in it, either.

“You make a fair point,” Kenobi says, nodding, and Rex stifles his reaction to that because again,  _ technically _ , Bo-Katan is right. They need allies, and whether it will make them appear to the best political advantage or not, turning down the help of some thousands of Mandalorian warriors could be a huge mistake. As long as Bo-Katan doesn’t have any further stipulations, which Rex really thinks she must. “But those idealistic principles are what have maintained what little trust the people still have, and what make us different than the Sith you want to kill so badly. If we win with your help, I fear the people may never trust us again.”

~~~

Bo-Katan really, honestly  _ does not care _ if anyone ever trusts the Jedi ever again. That’s  _ not her problem. _ The only thing she cares about is getting the Sith  _ dead _ so she can have her planet back. 

But she doesn’t think Kenobi is going to agree--he  _ does _ care about the Jedi’s standing in the eyes of the public, after all. So she ignores him. He’s too much a diplomat, a politician, for her taste (she can see why he and Satine fit so well). Instead, she focuses on the other Jedi General in the room, because there’s one thing her childhood education to prepare her to be a possible Duchess can still be useful for: she’s familiar with quite a lot of cultures.

“Skywalker,” she says, notices the way he frowns at her (he doesn’t trust her, none of them do, which is smart of them, she would be  _ embarrassed _ on their behalf if they did). “That’s a common surname taken by Tatooine slaves without a clan name, isn’t it?”

He  _ flinches. _

And that’s answer enough. “My people,  _ her _ people,” and she nods at her sister, “are slaves in all but name to Maul. He’s not a fair ruler--”

“You have  _ no idea _ what slavery is,” Skywalker snaps, and he spins on his heel and storms away, leans against the wall, hands clenched into fists.

“You’re right,” Bo-Katan agrees, which she  _ knows _ no one expected her to do. “My enslavement was of a much more… subtle, insidious nature,” and she shrugs one shoulder, deliberately casual. “Chains of my own making.”

The soldier with the jaig eyes painted in dark blue on his helmet looks  _ tense, _ angry probably, and Bo-Katan figures she should  _ probably _ care, but she honestly doesn’t. Even though the jaig eyes mean he’s probably one of, if not  _ the _ most elite of the guard. In the end, he’s a clone; his opinion doesn’t matter. Neither do any of the Jedi’s opinions, really. This is between herself and Satine, this is  _ Mand’alor _ and Regent, and she doesn’t think the Jedi--especially Kenobi-- _ understand _ that.

“In the end, Kenobi,” she says, “I am  _ Mand’alor, _ and my sister is Lady Kryze, Regent of Mandalore. It doesn’t  _ matter _ what the Jedi say. If the two traditional leaders of Mandalore wish to unite the clans and declare war on the Separatists, we will. The question is, will my warriors be working  _ with you, _ where you at least have  _ some _ control over our movements, or will you let my sister leave your protection?”

~~~

Rex can think of a few things he wants to say to Bo-Katan, but now is not the time for that, at all. This is supposed to be a diplomatic discussion, even though the Mand’alor is pushing them on things she would do better avoiding. He settles for curling his hands into fists and sending a few insulting phrases Ahsoka’s way. He wishes she wouldn’t feel so  _ amused _ .

General Kenobi frowns, just a little, and Rex knows Bo-Katan has said the right thing - but he also knows Kenobi is stubborn. “You are making a number of unsupported assumptions in presenting me with those options. No one has agreed to anything, as of yet.”

The Duchess lifts her chin a little. “Allow me to rectify that mistake, Master Kenobi.  _ Haat, ijaa, haa’it, Mand’alor. _ ” She looks proud and certain.

“Now I think you’ll have to choose one of my unsupported options,” Bo-Katan says dryly, and Rex scowls. Although she  _ is _ right. He thinks the Duchess has put them in a difficult position now, though, because committing the Jedi to this alliance would mean all that Obi-Wan was worried about, most likely, but if they decide to go about this war separately… Rex thinks they  _ have _ to do this.

Kenobi leans forward in his chair (and Rex sees Kix step towards him), clearly annoyed. “This is not a decision I can make lightly, Mand’alor Kryze. If I were only committing myself, I assure you, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I’m speaking for my Order, and the entire GAR.”

Rex hopes he imagines one of the  _ Mando’ade  _ muttering  _ what’s left of them _ , because otherwise any alliance may be fairly short-lived. Ahsoka soothes over his anger and he sends a general rumble of discontent. He doesn’t like this.

“I’m sure your armies won’t object to more support, especially now, Kenobi.”

Really the only thing at stake here is the Jedi’s reputation, if Rex is honest - there is still a bare possibility that this is some kind of coup, but he trusts the Duchess’ judgement more than that. And it’s not exactly that the Jedi’s reputation isn’t important, but the war  _ has _ to end, has to be won. This alliance would help. He bites back the comment he wants to make, however - he can’t undermine Kenobi, and he’s aware his opinion is not welcome in this instance. Kenobi and his General already  _ know _ their armies need reinforcements, without him reminding them.

~~~

“I  _ know _ that,” Kenobi snaps, sharp. “But the fact remains that the Death Watch is an organization of militant  _ terrorists, _ and the Jedi are committed to keeping the peace--”

Bo-Katan cuts him off, because, quite frankly, she’s  _ annoyed. _ “And you’re doing  _ such _ a fantastic job of that.”

“Better than  _ you _ are,” Skywalker says, turning around to glare.

“Actually,” Satine says, rising from her chair, shooting Skywalker a  _ look, _ “this is perhaps the most united Mandalore has been since before the civil war,” and she crosses the room to stand by Bo-Katan. Halfway there, Kenobi reaches out, catches her arm.

“Satine, the Death Watch has attempted to assassinate you multiple times, you can’t just  _ do this--” _

Satine  _ (bless _ her older sister’s sarcasm) just pulls her arm away. “I believe I just did,” she says coolly. “If you think I will willingly turn down an opportunity to unify all of Mandalore, you don’t truly know me.”

Bo-Katan  _ smirks. _ “There’s the fire I remember, sister,” she says, exchanges a bit of a smile with Satine, and then she shifts, makes direct eye contact with Skywalker, says conversationally, “I would think that the Jedi would be more concerned about ending slavery, especially when one of their own is a former slave. But then again, the Order hasn’t done a thing about the Outer Rim, has it? Really, not a surprise.”

~~~

Rex takes a solid step forward, tilting his head a little to one side because that’s  _ enough _ . If she isn’t going to be diplomatic, then kriff it, neither is he. “I don’t see you rushing to their rescue,  _ chakaar _ . Until you know what you’re talking about, why don’t you kriffing watch your mouth?” Ahsoka projects a warning to back off, but he can feel a fierce agreement in her thoughts, and frankly he could care less about being  _ polite _ at this point. She’s barely extended them the courtesy of restraint, why should he?

The Death Watch warriors shift, already-tense hands tightening around half-raised weapons, and Rex smiles behind his helmet. Before Bo-Katan can react, however, one of her guard speaks up. His accent is thick, his Basic barely intelligible. “Like you  _ jetiise _ have always done, right? Like they did at the massacre of Galidraan?”

That isn’t the  _ point _ , that’s barely even relevant (and an insult to his Jedi), and Rex scowls. “Don’t change the subject,  _ di’kut _ . This is war. My  _ vod’e _ die by the thousands and you expect me to be sorry you lost three hundred?” The Battle of Galidraan was a disaster, everyone knows that - kriff, Rex thinks it’s probably something of a tragedy. But Bo-Katan had brought up how many of his  _ vod’e _ are dead and he thinks it’s this warrior who had made the comment about the GAR and he’s  _ angry _ . (His wound throbs in time with his heartbeat and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t provoke them when he’s in no shape to fight.)

_ Rex! _ Ahsoka says, and Rex shakes his head a little, ignores her.

Finally the warrior steps forward, pushes through the rest of the guard, and Rex takes a few steps forward of his own. “War? We were not at war with the  _ jetiise _ , but they still slaughtered us without cause. I stood with my  _ Mand’alor _ when the  _ jetiise  _ cut every last one of us down.” He takes another step forward, body taut with tension, and Rex finds himself hesitating because this warrior clearly isn’t the naive shiny he’d thought he was. His instincts  _ finally _ tell him he’s pushed too far, too fast, but he doesn’t take a step back, doesn’t stop staring at the guard as he lifts his hands, grabs his helmet and yanks it off with a sharp, short movement. He tosses it to one side, lifts his chin, and Rex is grateful that his own helmet hides his shock. Half the warrior’s tan face is disfigured by a jagged scar from jaw to scalp, red and raw and twisted. Clearly nothing was ever done to treat the wound. He barely has anything left that could be called an eye. “Dooku gave me this  _ himself _ , right before your  _ jetiise  _ and their Council sold me into slavery.”

Rex takes a fast, sloppy step back, can’t help but drop his head as shame rushes hot through his veins. Kriff. Oh, kriff.

“It was fifteen years before the Kyr’tsad found me and got me out,  _ adiik _ . So don’t lecture  _ me _ about war.”

Rex swallows, reaches up and tugs off his own helmet, tucks it under his arm and meets the man’s eye, knows he’s nearly entirely in the wrong (although he doesn’t really regret insulting Bo-Katan, but that isn’t the point). Fifteen  _ years _ of slavery. Rex thinks that would kill him, fifteen years of what the Zygerrians did to him.

Because of the  _ Jedi _ . He barely understands that.

“ _ N’ceta _ ,” he says, although it’s hard to keep looking the warrior in the eye and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. However, the guard clearly didn’t expect that from him at all, because everything is suddenly very still and Rex wishes there weren’t so many people here.

(It occurs to him that Fives would never let him live this down if he were here, and that doesn’t  _ help _ .)

The scars around his neck, on his back and arms, itch and he still doesn’t feel like he’s said enough to show how  _ sorry _ he is, because  _ fifteen years _ and three hundred men dead and Rex had as good as called him ignorant.

~~~

The entire room is just  _ silent. _

The Death Watch soldiers have yet to let go of their weapons, though Bo-Katan stands calmly, her eyes pained as she watches her guard; Anakin looks  _ furious _ and also horrified and sick, and Ahsoka’s not sure what Obi-Wan’s feeling: his face is unreadable. The warrior’s face is a mess of a scar, and she can vaguely make out what looks like the original ‘saber stroke amid the riven, distended mass of skin; from among the folds of red-raw tissue, one clear, sharp grey eye stares out.

She steps forward, drawing his attention, almost without meaning to; but the skin on her hands and her back  _ burns _ with remembered pain and she nearly chokes on the memory of collars and shock whips. “How did you  _ survive?” _ she breathes out, one hand going almost unconsciously to her neck, tracing at the scars. A quick glance at Rex, and then she says, “Three--four--” and frowns, considering, “I think four days in Kadavo--the Zygerrians--” and she shakes her head, stops. Rex feels like he’s  _ drowning _ in shame, and she projects warm love, forgiveness, understanding.

“I think I need to have a talk with the Council,” Anakin snaps out, hard and dangerous, eyes flashing, and Ahsoka winces.

“Skyguy,  _ please _ don’t get yourself expelled--”

And he  _ whirls _ on her. “I don’t  _ want _ to be a part of an Order that  _ thinks slavery is acceptable!” _ He’s  _ shouting, _ almost, snarling the words out low and fierce. “The clones are  _ already _ slaves in everything but name, Snips, haven’t you  _ seen _ that? Didn’t Kamino show you that? The Jedi  _ know that _ and don’t  _ do anything.” _

And then he spins back, storms from the room, all fire and rage and  _ betrayal, _ and all Ahsoka can do is gape.

~~~

Obi-Wan scans the room, taking in the tension and the discomfort and, still, an undercurrent of anger. He catches Satine’s eye for a moment and remembers this is yet another reason why she so abhors war, why she hates that the Jedi became involved. Her sister looks defensive, like she expects him to try to defend his Order. He thinks if he did that she’d make him regret ever opening his mouth.

Fortunately, in a way, he has no plans to defend the Council. He has long thought they don’t do enough to stop the spread of slavery, and he knows (feels agreement in the Force) that Galidraan wasn’t  _ right _ . The Mandalorian warriors stare at him, at his troopers, defiant, and this is an old, old anger.

He’s sitting here talking to them about the people’s trust in the Jedi and the Jedi’s duty to protect the peace, when to these men and women, the Jedi have never been anything but enemies and killers.

Although they’re terrorists, Obi thinks it may be the Jedi who helped push them to be.

He sighs and leans back in his chair, shakes his head. “It seems the Jedi owe your people a debt,  _ Mand’alor _ .” He shifts, considers standing, and actually feels Kix draw on the Force and project a silent command:  _ don’t you kriffing dare _ . He wants to find a way to show his sincerity, but he’s rather limited, so he just inclines his head. “Forgive my hesitancy. I’d be glad to form an alliance with you.” He glances at Rex and the scarred warrior, the one the records named Jak Ordo, the only survivor of the battle - massacre - besides Jango Fett.

The clones have inherited this alliance, in a way - the Force seems to hum at that thought.

~~~

“Jak,” Bo-Katan says quietly, and her second-in-command nods, retrieves his helmet and jams it back on his head, falls back into his place. She takes a careful step towards Kenobi. “This is not an easy alliance for us to make, Kenobi. You must understand that.”

He nods, bows his head a little. “I do,  _ Mand'alor. _ And, for what it’s worth,” and he pauses, as though considering, “had the Jedi Archives recorded your fate, Jak Ordo, I would have made certain you were freed.”

Bo-Katan feels a strange almost _ warmth _ at that--a Jedi would've _ freed _ the  _ mando’ad _ they'd wrongfully enslaved so long ago? It seems crazy, but… “ _ Haat, ijaa, haa’it, jetii,” _ she says, salutes again. It's almost  _ impossible _ to believe.

The Jedi are helping.  _ Willingly. _

~~~

Rex stays close to Ahsoka through what little more conversation Kenobi and the Duchess and Bo-Katan have; then Kenobi asks Cody to help him go after Anakin (and Cody does, shoots Rex a commiserating glance as he leaves) and Bo-Katan orders her warriors to go back to their ship. Rex will be glad when they leave, he thinks. He’s exhausted and his stomach burns and he still feels intensely guilty. He should have had more restraint, but he feels worn thin these days.

It’s hardly an excuse.

The guard starts to file out of the room after the Duchess and Bo-Katan leave, and Rex’s men follow. He starts to walk too but he’s not actually  _ supposed _ to do that much walking and it hurts and he’s tired and images from Kadavo are flashing in the back of his mind, so he stops.  _ Can we sit? Just for a while, I don’t think I should try to walk back. _

_ Please _ , she thinks, and he makes for the nearest chair, a neat, clean,  _ soft _ one, and sits down with a stifled gasp of pain. Bending is not wise yet. Ahsoka comes with him, settles almost gingerly on his lap, and he tugs off his gauntlets and starts unbuckling his pauldron and bracers and chest and back armor till he can drop all the pieces on the floor and pull Ahsoka against his shoulder, careful himself. He can feel her shoulder hurts, and she’s seeing the same things he is, Agruss’ smile and arcing blue electricity and pickaxe on stone.

He thinks it’s because of those memories that he’s so slow to realize that not all of the soldiers have left the room - it takes the warrior (Jak, they’d called him) clearing his throat to get Rex’s attention and he  _ jolts _ , has to bite back a cry of pain as he levers himself more upright, curls his arm too tight around Ahsoka’s shoulders defensively.

“ _ Jetii, adiik _ ,” Jak says gruffly, and Rex nods, uncomfortable and ashamed again. He can’t see Jak’s scar anymore but he might as well be able to. “I want to talk to you.”

“Alright,” Rex answers. He feels Ahsoka press reassurance through the bond and it helps a little, but not much. Of course he couldn’t have been expected to know Jak was a slave or a veteran, but he shouldn’t have let his temper get away with him.

_ That’s done now, Rex _ , Ahsoka thinks gently.

It is, and Rex has to deal with the consequences. He wishes Jak would take his helmet back off, if only so it feels like they’re on more equal footing (as equal as they can be as he sits there injured and ashamed with his  _ cyare _ in his lap). But he’s hardly earned that much respect.

“Your scars,  _ jetii. _ You spoke of the Zygerrians. What do you know of slavery?” The question is blunt, harsh, simple. Rex tries to calm some of the worse memories that rush through Ahsoka’s mind when she answers.

“Too much.”

~~~

“Too much,” Ahsoka breathes out, and she closes her eyes against the onslaught of awful memory that rolls over her mind. The boy, Rex on the ground  _ screaming, _ a shock whip around her headtails, Rex tied to a frame  _ (use the Force again and we’ll kill him). _ She shudders a little, hides her face in Rex’s shoulder--she doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t  _ want to. _

“How did a  _ jetii _ end up in a Zygerrian auction?” Jak asks, and she doesn’t look up at him, can’t.

“It was a mission. It went wrong,” she says, and that’s  _ all she’ll say. _ Any more and she’ll be crying again, be trapped in the memories, and she presses against Rex’s mind and curls tighter against his chest. She can’t even  _ begin _ to comprehend the idea of being a slave for  _ fifteen years, _ not when four days had so easily, thoroughly broken her. 

Jak doesn’t speak for a few minutes, as though considering, and then he says, “You have the scars of their slaves.”

She jerks, flinches a little, can’t help it, because she’d not outright _said_ that yet and she doesn’t really want to talk about it and can’t he just _go away?_ _Rex, I can’t--_

Rex soothes her, gently, though she can tell the memories are fresh in his mind too. “This isn’t the  _ easiest _ thing to talk about,” he says, a bit sharp, defensive, and she shushes him quietly.

“Rex,  _ cyare, _ it’s okay,” she tells him, shifting to look up at him a little. “He’s earned the right to ask.” And she takes a careful breath, says, “We, Rex and I, we spent--four days in a  _ processing facility _ on Kadavo, it was--not good.”

That’s an  _ understatement, _ but she can’t talk about the details without losing herself in the flashbacks even still, and she’s not sure Jak even wants to  _ know, _ anyway.

~~~

Rex rubs his hand over Ahsoka’s shoulder lightly, repetitively, because the soothing motion helps him, too. His hand falters a moment when Jak turns to him, but he lifts his chin and holds his gaze anyway (stifles the urge to tug on the collar of his blacks and make sure his scars aren’t visible).  _ His collar burns hot and choking and he doesn’t have the strength anymore to try to stand, to hold back the screams and the crying because he just needs it to stop. _

“You too,  _ adiik? _ ” Jak asks, and Rex wishes he had any kriffing idea what the warrior is thinking, but Jak’s posture is perfect and his stance merely battle ready. Rex doesn’t even think he’d be able to read the man’s face if he didn’t have his helmet on. He does his best to shut down his own expression, leave his face more or less blank, although it’s hard when screams are echoing in his ears.

“ _ ‘Lek _ . Yeah, me too.” He hesitates, then pushes himself to sit up a little straighter even (and that  _ hurts _ and right now pain makes the memories worse and Ahsoka sends him a sharp thought and a warning that if he doesn’t sit still she’ll make him). “So you’ll understand why I didn’t take too kindly to your leader taunting my General about that.” He doesn’t  _ mean _ to sound bitter, because at this point he’s in no position, but he can taste stone dust and electricity and Bo-Katan had been talking about things she didn’t  _ understand _ .

Jak grunts a little in acknowledgement, which Rex thinks is probably the best he’s going to get. And he thought  _ Cody _ was quiet. Then Jak turns back toward Ahsoka, reaches up and pulls his helmet off again, meets her eyes. “I hate the  _ jetiise _ . You make yourselves the judges of things you don’t understand and call it justice. But I’ll cooperate with you,  _ Jetii  _ Tano. Not the others.”

Rex blinks and meets Ahsoka’s surprised look his way. “Okay,” she says, nodding. “I’m not actually a Jedi, though.”

“Even better,” Jak says, and Rex finds himself  _ almost _ wanting to smile, but it’s not that funny, so he doesn’t. He runs his hand over his collar and pushes back another memory, keeps holding onto Ahsoka’s thoughts. He’s too  _ tired _ for this, probably, but he never really has gotten the luxury of good timing.

~~~

Ahsoka hums a little,  _ almost _ smiles. “Thank you,” she says softly. “You honor me.”

Jak nods, flashes a sharp smile. “I do,” he says calmly, and then he looks back at Rex again.  _ “Adiik, _ you would have been  _ Mando’ade, _ in the old days.” A pause, then, dryly, “That is an honor too.”

And the old Mandalorian turns and walks away, helmet tucked under his arm.

Ahsoka blinks, stares up at Rex, shocked.  _ Did he just--? _

~~~

Rex sighs, staring at the door, torn between being annoyed and being appreciative of what was, truthfully, in fairness, an honor. It would be more of one, he thinks wryly, if Jak would stop calling him a  _ boy _ . “We’re going to have to work with him more often, aren’t we?” he says, grimacing.

“Since I’m the only Jedi he’s willing to talk to, I guess so,” Ahsoka says, and she’s definitely laughing at him.

“Wonderful.” Rex rubs his forehead and sinks back into the chair further, hisses at the pain in his stomach again. “If this is going to work he has to stop talking to me like I’m a child.”

“You called him  _ di’kut _ , Rex,” Ahsoka reminds him, and he winces a little. He’s going to regret that for a while.

“One time,” he mutters.

“And technically you are-”

Rex sends her a warning thought.  _ If you finish that sentence I’m going to sit on you, cyare _ .

Ahsoka  _ laughs _ and that helps dispell more of the images from Kadavo.  _ I dare you _ .

_ When I’m not  _ dying _ , maybe _ . He pulls her closer to him and kisses her on the cheek.  _ We’re safe now, you know _ .

_ More or less,  _ she agrees, slips her hand around the back of his neck and into the collar of his blacks to run her fingers over his scar. He hums a little and leans into the touch.

_ I still don’t feel so good about this alliance. Maybe it isn’t a trap, but if the Kyrt’sad all hate the Jedi this much, I don’t see how we’re going to do this _ . And he thinks maybe they don’t have such a high opinion of him and his  _ vod’e _ , either, which is bound to lead to tension between their forces - not really a good thing to have on the battlefield.

_ Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa _ . True for the Mandalorians and true for the clones, too. Perhaps not the best combination.

_ I think we can _ , Ahsoka says, her mental voice light with optimism, almost.  _ This whole thing turned out alright and you insulted their leader and their second in command. _

_ Fair enough _ , Rex says, although part of the reason it was alright was because they had General Kenobi with them and because he knows how to swallow his pride and apologize.  _ We’ll  _ have _ to make this work. I just don’t think it’s going to be easy _ .

_ When is it ever? _

Rex snorts. She isn’t wrong. And he’s getting kriffing tired of it. In times past it would have been easier to remind himself  _ it’s just war _ , but with the possibility of the war  _ ending _ has come an unfortunate level of impatience with the fighting and the politics and pain. Although thinking about what will happen to his men  _ after _ is barely better.

At least with these new allies, if everything works out the way the Duchess and Bo-Katan and Kenobi hope, they may actually be able to tip the balance in their favor. At this point, he (almost) doesn’t mind the embarrassment if it means they could win and go… go home.

Wherever home is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> K'uur, udesii: Hush, be calm/calm down
> 
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: I love you
> 
> Mand'alor: sole leader; title for the ruler of the Mandalorians
> 
> Dar'manda: not Mandalorian, an outsider
> 
> Mando'ad: child of Mandalore (plural is Mando'ade)
> 
> Aruetii: traitor
> 
> Kyr'tsad: Death Watch (literally "death society")
> 
> dar'jetii: not Jedi, usually used to refer to Fallen Jedi or Sith
> 
> Mando’ad draar digu: "A Mandalorian never forgets."
> 
> Haat, ijaa, haa’it: "Truth, honor, vision." Said to seal a pact/oath
> 
> Chakaar: petty thief, lowlife, grave robber, scumbag
> 
> Jetiise: plural of Jetii/Jedi
> 
> Di'kut: moron, idiot
> 
> Adiik: a child between 3-13 years old; Mando'a doesn't have gendered words so when Jak addresses Rex with this, read as "boy" or "child"
> 
> N'ceta (or Ni ceta): I'm sorry; literally "I kneel" - a deep, subservient apology that is rarely used
> 
> 'Lek: short for "elek" (yes); means "yeah"
> 
> Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa: "Long memory, short fuse."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so once again, this fic has run away with us--instead of simple wrapping up of loose ends, we have plot and the rest of the war to write, apparently. although i guess we shouldn't be surprised, it wouldn't be us if this didn't happen! XD so anyway, enjoy, and be sure to let us know what you think!

Jesse is  _ pissed. _

Honestly, so they have to work with  _ Death Watch, _ which wouldn’t be a completely horrible thing if it weren’t for the fact that they’re all  _ terrorists  _ and also half of them have never seen a real battle before. He could  _ deal _ with the hostility then, honestly, he really could.

But for some reason the Jedi decided it would be a  _ good idea _ to stick the kriffing  _ mando’ade _ in the barracks  _ with _ the 501st, as though there aren’t enough barracks on Coruscant to give Death Watch their own, especially after Order 66. Order 66, which several of the men of the 501st had participated in, if only because they hadn’t all gotten their chips out before going  back to the front, and the surgery wasn’t a safe one to do in the field. No one had thought it’d be an issue, not with the Chancellor arrested. They’d all been so, so  _ wrong. _

But the  _ vod’e _ all  _ know that, _ they don’t need the  _ mando’ade _ reminding them of it, or even worse,  _ mocking _ them for it. 

“No true  _ Mando’ade _ would turn on his  _ vod’e,” _ one says, and Jesse has finally had  _ enough. _

He jerks to his feet, snarls out,  _ “Ge’hutuune _ like you  _ Kyr’tsad _ have  _ no idea _ what being a true  _ mando’ade _ means,” because maybe he and his  _ vod’e _ don’t entirely know  _ either _ but at least they have more of a code of honor, at least, they’re not  _ terrorists, _ they don’t try to  _ murder their own Duchess _ in cold blood, willingly, under their own control.

The Death Watch warrior, a young man with black hair and dark eyes in his pale face, jumps up as well, storms forward. “You are  _ dar’manda, _ you have  _ no right _ to speak our language!”

And Jesse  _ snaps. _

He lunges forward, ignoring Kix’s shout  _ (Jesse, ori’vod, get the kriff back to your bunk), _ swings an uppercut at the  _ mando’ad’s _ chin with one gauntleted fist. The Death Watch warrior blocks, aims a kick that Jesse easily evades, and he feints at the warrior’s head again then slams a punch into his ribs, which connects. Through the  _ beskar’gam, _ the punch is much less effective, but the  _ mando’ad _ swears and throws a wild punch at Jesse’s nose--a punch Jesse sidesteps, and he jabs his elbow into the  _ mando’ad’s _ throat, sweeps his feet out from underneath him with one leg, uses his weight to shove the younger, less experienced warrior to the ground.

The warrior is coughing, choking, and Jesse feels a surge of savage pleasure at that: maybe it’ll remind the  _ di’kut _ to  _ watch his kriffing mouth. _ He straddles the  _ mando’ad, _ balls his fist again and punches the other in the face, feels the bone of his nose  _ snap _ very satisfyingly beneath his knuckles, and he grins, wild and feral and fierce, showing his teeth. “You  _ Kyr’tsad mando’ade _ are  _ landuur.” _ He lifts his arm again, then  _ swears _ as the warrior nearly throws Jesse off, and he struggles back to a dominant position, punches the warrior in the face again--

And then the door to the barracks opens, and Jesse looks over to see his Captain, his Commander, and Jak Ordo entering.

Oh,  _ shit. _

~~~

Rex and Ahsoka had been in the med bay, getting painkillers and having Ahsoka’s bandages changed, and they chose to walk back from there to the barracks. Rex is worn out from the walk when he and Ahsoka get back, and he nods to Jak Ordo at the door (the veteran warrior had apparently been purchasing  supplies for his medic) and presses the keypad code to let him in with them.

With the door opening comes a rush of sound, and Rex  _ swears _ . The scene that greets him is exactly what he'd hoped it  _ wouldn't _ be. Clustered, shouting, pushing soldiers draw his attention to two bodies in the middle of the barracks, Jesse in his familiar armor on top of a  _ mando’ad _ , slamming a fist into his face. Hot anger blazes up Rex’s spine, burns off his tiredness, and he pushes himself into a run through the squads, feels Ahsoka and Jak doing the same. He can’t karking have this happening, kriff Jesse and his temper.

The Mandalorian’s face is a mass of blood but he's still struggling, and Rex grits his teeth ( _ too much, Jesse, too much _ ) and grabs Jesse bodily by the shoulders, hauls him back, ignoring the horrible stabbing pain in his torso. “Back off right  _ now _ ,  _ vod _ . Kriffing  _ udesii _ .”

Jak bends down, silent, grabs the back of the warrior's armor and drags him off the floor, dangling in the air, coughing and glaring hatefully at Jesse and now Rex - but that isn’t Rex’s focus at the moment, and he turns back to his  _ vod _ with a glare.

Jesse shrugs off Rex’s hands and scowls, twisting his lip to bare his teeth. “They said we were  _ dar’manda _ , sir.”

“And you kriffing attacked him like a shiny with no restraint?” Rex snarls, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him back a few steps, because Jesse is still glowering, breathing hard, and he thought  _ better _ of his  _ vod _ than this. “So what?”

“He told us not to speak Mando’a, Rex, they can’t  _ do that _ -”

“ _ Ori’vod _ , he only did that after you called him  _ ge’hutuun _ . What did you expect?” Kix says sharply, and Rex sighs fast, heavy, and glances over at Jak, who has hauled his warrior a short distance away and appears to be listening intently while he explains.

Ahsoka steps up by his shoulder, sighs and crosses her arms. “Why would you  _ do _ that, Jesse?”

“You know better,” Rex snaps. He’d already shamed himself earlier today, and he would have thought Jesse would have seen they need to  _ cooperate _ \- but instead one of his most experienced men has reflected terribly on him and his entire battalion.

“Sir,” Jesse says, with an evident effort to calm himself, although his eyes are still  _ blazing _ . “He - and the rest of them - were mocking us for Order 66 and the chips and all of it. I wasn’t gonna let it slide, sir.”

Rex grits his teeth till his jaw hurts, but shakes his head. “I need you to sit down,  _ vod _ . Now. I understand but kriffing  _ pull it together _ .”

Jesse scowls mutinously, but steps back to his bunk and sits heavily, Kix going to stand by him with a nod at Rex.

Ahsoka feels  _ furious _ , maybe more so than Jesse, and Rex tries to remind her to calm down as he turns to Jak, hoping to apologize for Jesse and patch this over (and make sure they do  _ not _ provoke his men about that order again, because they don’t deserve it and they shouldn’t have to try to ignore those sorts of comments). Jak has set his warrior back down on the floor, although he’s still holding onto his back armor. The  _ mando’ad _ wipes blood away from his nose and winces a little; his nose is definitely broken, lip split and starting to swell. Rex can’t help a certain satisfaction.

Let that teach the  _ di’kut _ to mock his  _ vod’e _ .

Rex smirks, just a little, at the warrior, then looks at Jak Ordo with a slight, deferential nod. “I apologize on behalf of my  _ vod _ ,” he says stiffly.

Jak grunts, shakes his warrior a little and lets go of him. “And I for this one.”

Rex nods, accepts it, and Jak pushes his way through his men without further comment, presumably headed for his designated bunk. Rex turns to address Jesse again, because they can’t have dissent like this between their armies and the shinies in their battalion will follow Jesse’s example.

“The least you could have done,  _ hut’uun, _ was finish the job and kill the rest of the  _ jetiise _ .” Rex stiffens and turns, automatically dropping his hand to Jesse’s shoulder to keep him seated, although the blood is rushing in his ears and his free hand has curled into a fist. The  _ mando’ad _ is sneering, leaning forward, far too sure of himself. “You couldn’t even finish that one,  _ ures'kot _ child she is.” Rex doesn’t  _ mean _ to grip Jesse’s pauldron so hard but if he doesn’t, he thinks both he and his  _ vod _ might get themselves in trouble. Ahsoka feels dangerously close to losing her temper, and Rex tries to calm her down, but he doesn’t think that with how angry he is, he’s actually  _ helping _ .

The  _ mando’ad  _ looks at Ahsoka, licks a drop of blood from his upper lip. “How’s it feel,  _ jetii? _ To be so weak you can get  _ that _ kind of wound from a few pitiful  _ dar’mandase? _ ” He cocks his head slightly to one side, so  _ confident _ , and Rex lets go of Jesse’s shoulder with a soft, fierce oath, curls his hands into fists, although he’s unsure what he’s going to do. Kriffing enough.

~~~

Ahsoka  _ tries _ not to react, she really does.

Mostly.

Somewhat.

And then the Death Watch warrior snarks out another rude comment, this time aimed at  _ her, _ and Ahsoka  _ spins _ away from Rex, stares dangerously at him; for a moment she just  _ freezes, _ watches him, and then he  _ smirks _ at her and she loses her precarious control over her temper. 

A brief use of the Force has her sling on the ground, and she jerks her ‘sabers to her hands, flips  _ over _ the warrior’s head with a Force-augmented jump, and lands behind him with both her lightsabers crossed at his throat. (The entire barracks has gone  _ very _ still, the only sound the humming of her ‘sabers.) She holds the pose for just long enough to make her point (behind her, she senses Jak slowly standing once again, his helmet left on his bunk), then withdraws, returns her ‘sabers to her belt, steps back. “You mean the  _ lightsaber wound _ that cut completely through my shoulder?” she snaps out. “I got that from  _ killing Darth Sidious, _ also known as Chancellor Palpatine, the Sith Master. I decapitated him with the same move I used on you-- _ after _ being electrocuted by Force-lightning  _ multiple times. _ And I did it to  _ save my men, _ while the Force  _ screamed _ with the pain of the deaths of thousands of Jedi. Can you  _ understand that, _ soldier? Have you ever been in a  _ real _ battle?”

The  _ mando’ad _ looks down, and Ahsoka turns away from him, walks over to the bunks. “Jesse,” she says, and he looks up immediately.

“Yes, Commander?”

“We  _ need _ this alliance to work,” and she keeps her voice low, “but it’s not fair to you to force you to listen to this. Instead of  _ attacking, _ though, let Rex or Anakin or one of us know,” and she raises her voice. “All of you, that applies,” and she knows the entire battalion will have gotten the message soon.

“Commander,” and it’s Kix, weary and  _ annoyed. _ “Why do I even  _ bother?” _

He holds up the sling, and she grins sheepishly, takes it from him, settles it back on her arm. “Sorry, Kix.”

“You’ll be  _ sorry _ if you ruin the  _ six hours _ I spent in surgery, with  _ four Jedi healers _ to support me, with a stupid stunt like that,” and his eyes flash a bit. “If you kriff this up you  _ won’t be able to use that arm, _ so  _ please, _ Ahsoka, for kriff’s sake, can you  _ leave the sling on _ for three more weeks?”

Ahsoka winces, can’t quite meet his eyes. “If I’d realized how bad it was going to be, I wouldn’t have let him stab me?” she hazards, but Kix shakes his head, and she grimaces. “Okay, yeah I would’ve, but it was  _ necessary, _ and it  _ worked, _ and do we have to have this argument again?”

~~~

Rex sighs, glances at Brii in time to see the kid mouth along with Kix as he says, “We’ll have this discussion as often as we need to until you  _ listen to me _ .” Rex has to fight off a smile, because now Jak Ordo has shoved his warrior back to stand behind him and is looking balefully between the two groups. Rex should probably make another apology, for diplomacy’s sake, but he’s had enough of playing the diplomat for today and it’s been the  _ mando’ad _ who’s pushed this disaster from the start.

“I want to talk to you, Jak,” Rex says shortly, shoots a look at the warriors behind him. “If you don’t mind.” If this  _ lovely _ arrangement is going to work, it’s going to require some restraint from the Mandalorians, too, not just his  _ vod’e _ .

“Fine.” Jak turns to his men. “Get back to your bunks and keep your mouths shut.”

Rex thinks neither of their men are exactly appearing to their best advantages today. He gestures for Jak to follow him (he thinks that might annoy him, but that’s too bad; these are his barracks) and goes over to a row of empty bunks, sits down on one because he  _ hurts _ ; he’d been in no shape to drag Jesse around like he had. Jak stays standing in front of him, arms crossed.

“Your warriors can’t talk about that order,” Rex says. It’s too much, too personal, and he can barely listen to it himself, much less force his men to put up with it. They’ve lost too much to have it shoved back in their faces. “We just lost millions of  _ vod’e _ in the span of a day. Think whatever you want about the Jedi, but we’re supposed to fight for them and instead we were made to kill them. I will not expect my men to listen in silence to your warriors making light of their pain.” Not even for the alliance.

Jak holds Rex’s gaze for a minute, the grey eye calculating, then he nods stiffly. “I understand,  _ Alor’ad _ .”

Rex clenches his teeth as he presses his hand to the bunk and pushes himself back to his feet; all the same, a hiss of pain escapes him because he’s really, really pushed himself too much today. “Thank you,” he says, hand automatically going to his stomach as he smiles a little.

“I don’t do this for you,  _ adiik _ ,” Jak says dismissively, and Rex rolls his eyes and brushes past the older  _ mando’ad _ . He’ll take what concessions he can get, however he can get them. He doesn’t think he’s going to like this alliance much.

For that matter, neither are his  _ vod’e _ .

~~~

Ahsoka cuts off mid-sentence and  _ swears _ when she feels a sharp stab of pain from Rex; Kix is used to this and gives her a  _ look, _ as though to say  _ this conversation isn’t over _ before asking, “What is it?”

“He’s an  _ idiot,” _ Ahsoka snaps, storms over towards the unoccupied bunks where Rex and Jak are talking.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Kix mutters under his breath behind her.

She pretends not to hear.

“Rex!” she says, glares sharply at him. “Sit the  _ kriff down _ and stop aggravating your stomach.”

He  _ glares, _ looks over at Jak almost instinctively--Ahsoka almost thinks she sees a glimmer of  _ amusement _ in the older warrior’s eye as he shakes his head and walks off to his bunk (she’s pretty sure he’s muttering something under his breath, but she can’t tell what). “It’s not my fault,” Rex tries, and she just gives him a  _ look. _

“Captain, you shouldn’t have been a part of the guard,” Kix says. “Sit down, armor off,  _ now,” _ and there’s a bit of Force behind his words--that tends to happen when he gets stressed or upset or frustrated. “I need to make sure you haven’t torn anything open. Why is it  _ always  _ me?” and the last sentence is mumbled under his breath.

(Part of her notices the  _ mando’ade _ are mostly just… watching, eyes darting between her and Rex and Kix and Jesse, but she doesn’t really  _ care _ right now. Rex is more important.)

~~~

Rex does  _ not _ want to take off his armor right now; he doesn’t trust the Death Watch warriors even remotely. “Can’t we do this later, Kix? I’m sure it’s  _ fine _ , it doesn’t feel good but I don’t think I’ve really done anything bad.”

“Captain,” Kix says, calmly, but with a heavy bite to his voice, “take your kriffing armor and shirt off.”

Rex doesn't want to let Kix examine him here in the middle of his men and the kriffing Death Watch. But the thought of actually getting up and walking again is worse (maybe), and Kix wouldn’t let him anyway, so he grits his teeth and obeys, sets his upper body armor in neat order next to his helmet. And this shouldn’t be such a big deal to him - he’s safer here than nearly anywhere else, his squad and Ahsoka are all here. But it isn’t really about whether he’s safe or not - it would be easier if it was. He just hates that people can  _ see _ . But that shouldn’t bother him so much, and Kix is going to be  _ pissed _ if he keeps making an issue of this, so he sighs and tugs his shirt over his head, immediately sets about folding it up and setting it next to him on the bunk so he has something to do with his hands.

Kix sits down on his bunk and starts unwrapping Rex’s bandages, muttering something about how they probably needed changing anyway. Rex keeps his focus on his own hands because his instincts are telling him his back is unprotected, he’s going to get  _ killed _ , and it takes some effort not to constantly check behind him. Then he feels Soka hum a little in his mind, and the bunk dips behind him and he twists his head around to see she’s seated behind him so instead of empty space at his back, there’s her.  _ Thank you _ , he thinks. It’s easier, then, to turn around again and drop his eyes back to his hands. It’s not really  _ okay _ , his scars burn and he doesn’t want to have so many people  _ seeing _ them, but he trusts Soka to have his six and it helps a little of the nervous feeling in his stomach subside.

~~~

Jak hadn’t really  _ intended _ to look at the  _ adiik’s _ bunk, but his argument with the medic had been loud enough to attract Jak’s attention, and the moment the clone had pulled his shirt over his head, Jak hadn’t been able to look away.

The  _ jetii _ and the  _ adiik _ had, it seems, been more than just  _ slaves. _

There’s a ring of thick scar tissue around the  _ adiik’s _ neck, from a shock collar--Jak is  _ intimately _ familiar with such contraptions and their effects on a body, and he remembers  _ four days in a processing facility on Kadavo _ and he can’t hide a shudder. Surprisingly enough, that’s not the worst of the scars; the  _ adiik’s _ back is  _ covered _ in ropey scars and thin red laceration lines and larger clumps of scar tissue. (Jak has a few matching scars on his own body, from the few times he’d ended up in Zygerrian auctions.)

There’s also a pair of tattoos, names written out in Mando’a:  _ Fives _ and  _ Dogma. _ The names sound like clone names, call-signs really, and he shouldn’t be  _ curious _ about this, he’d trained curiosity out of himself while in chains, because curiosity  _ kills, _ but… 

But the  _ adiik’s _ scars are a hideous testament to the brutality the both of them have shared, and Jak, too, has a list of names he wishes he could ink on his skin. (There are too many names.) So he stands, cautiously, especially when he sees the  _ jetii _ moving--but she’s just settling in behind the  _ adiik, _ watching his six, and Jak  _ sees _ the young  _ verd _ relax at his  _ jetii’s _ presence.  _ (Cyare, _ she’d called him.)

He  _ shouldn’t do this. _

He  _ should _ be sitting the kriff down and keeping his mouth shut, like he’d ordered his  _ verde _ to do.

But Jak is not always good at doing what he  _ should, _ even after years of conditioning in chains, and so he curls his fingers into his palms and takes a careful breath and strides over to within a meter or so of the  _ adiik’s _ bunk, notices how his  _ jetii _ watches warily, though her hands don’t go to her  _ jetii’kade, _ for which he is grateful--he’s not sure he could keep himself from reacting to a threat from a  _ jetii, _ intentional or not.

_ “Alor’ad,” _ he says, getting the  _ adiik’s _ attention, “who are they? Your names.”

Every soldier has names.

~~~

It takes Rex a moment to understand what Jak is asking him (and he doesn’t really want to meet Jak’s eye, even though Jak’s scars are far worse than his), and when he does he isn’t sure he wants to answer. Too much vulnerability here. Kix’s hands still for a moment, and he wishes the medic would just hurry the  _ kriff _ up so they’d all stop  _ staring _ at him. He kriffing  _ knows _ how he looks, knows he looks broken, and it’s not a reminder he appreciates. The armor is better, helps him feel as strong as he knows he is (most times).

Ahsoka projects assurance, comfort, a thread of disagreement with his assessment of himself.

“Members of my squad,” Rex says, tense. “The Chancellor killed them.”

When he’d been a shiny, before the mission when he earned his jaig eyes, he’d thought he should get tattoos for his  _ vod’e _ who died. He never did, learned too fast that there would quickly be too many names, and it was best to move on. But it had felt important to do  _ something _ for Fives and Dogma, and so he’d asked Brii for just two more tattoos.

_ They’re vod’e, my friends _ , he wants to say, but does not.

_ I don’t want to do this, Soka _ , he thinks, and feels a soft wave of understanding. He doesn’t like them looking, even if Jak probably understands and has the same scars, even if all his squad are grieving his  _ vod’e _ too. He glances at Kix, and his friend gets the message because he goes back to work, unwinds the last few lengths of bandage (and it  _ sticks _ which means he did kriffing reopen something, probably,  _ kriff _ it hurts).

Kix gives him a  _ look _ and peels the bandage free, and if Rex didn’t know Kix better he’d say the medic seems perversely pleased when Rex bites out a pained curse.

When Rex looks back up at Jak (although he doesn’t want to, he wants to pretend it’s just him and Ahsoka and Kix here), the older warrior inclines his head just slightly, recites a phrase Rex has long been familiar with. “ _ Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum _ .”

“ _ Ni partayli, gar darasuum _ ,” Rex repeats tiredly, nods back. Sometimes he thinks he’s  _ too  _ good at remembering.

~~~

Ahsoka sits with Rex while Kix applies a new bacta patch, after swearing profusely about  _ again, Captain, does no one appreciate how much  _ **_work_ ** _ it takes me to keep you from dying? _ and rewrapping the bandage with fresh fabric--after using a bit of Force-healing on the reopened wound to close it,  _ again. _ Jak leaves after the short, rather stilted conversation; Ahsoka can feel Rex’s relief at that, and also his  _ exhaustion. _ He’s tired, and she is too (she has to admit it, though she doesn’t want to), and she’s pretty sure Kix  _ knows. _

Sure enough, the medic lets Rex pull his shirt on, but as soon as he reaches for his armor, Kix shakes his head. “You need to kriffing  _ rest, _ Captain,” and then he glares at Ahsoka. “You too, Commander, and I  _ will _ sedate you if I have to.”

Ahsoka  _ pouts. _ “But I’m  _ fine--” _

_ “Commander.” _

Ahsoka swallows, looks away from the medic, mumbles, “I didn’t even  _ do anything,” _ pretends she can’t  _ feel _ him boring a hole in her head with his gaze.

“I’m fine too,” Rex says, which is utter  _ bantha-shit, _ but Ahsoka can hardly reprimand him for doing the same thing she’s doing--well, she  _ can, _ but then Rex just gets pouty and sassy with her and she’s too tired for that.

Kix’s glare  _ increases. _ “Go. The. Kriff. To.  _ Sleep,” _ he growls, and she nearly swears at the heavy layer of Force-suggestion behind his voice--she’s not sure it’s entirely accidental. Whether accidental or not, it  _ works, _ and she struggles to block it out, feels her exhaustion reaching up to swamp her.

“That’s  _ cheating,” _ she whines, sleepily, makes a face and leans heavily into Rex’s shoulder.

~~~

Rex does not  _ want _ to sleep - but it’s very hard to remember that when Kix tells him to go to sleep, and he’s  _ pretty _ sure from Ahsoka’s thoughts and very sudden lean into his shoulder that Kix is using the Force, which is not  _ fair _ and which they will discuss later, probably.

Once he’s had some rest.

It still doesn’t feel quite right to just lay down here with so many unfamiliar people in the barracks, but his mind feels  _ heavy _ and he wants  _ sleep _ (very not fair), so he reminds himself to tell Kix “kriff you” later and pulls Soka close against his chest, fumbles for his folded up blanket and tugs it over both of them.

_ Love you, Soka _ , he barely remembers to say, and he vaguely feels her agree, reach up and run her fingers over the scars that curl over his shoulders.

_ Love you too _ .

~~~

Brii is curled up on his bunk, furiously sketching--he hadn’t necessarily  _ meant _ to draw the  _ mando’ade, _ but Jak’s scarred face and bright eye are so  _ interesting _ and he hadn’t been able to help himself.

He’d mostly ignored the aftermath of the fight, not wanting to  _ think about it, _ knowing if he did he’d get angry enough to fight himself, and the Commander had said  _ not to fight. _ Instead, he’d focused on his drawing, on shading and the exact right representation of Jak’s awful scar and the paint on his armor.

And then a  _ mando’ad _ comes over to him, her eyes curious, and says, “What are you doing?”

Brii flushes, scrambles to hide the sketchbook before she can see it (he remembers his sketches being ripped up and the way the  _ mando’ade _ have been nothing but hostile), except that in his efforts he accidentally knocks the book onto the floor, and it lays there, open to the drawing of Jak.

The  _ mando’ad _ bends down, picks it up, and Brii stammers out, “Please give that back,” tries not to let his hands shake, can’t quite manage it. That’s  _ his, _ he doesn’t want the  _ mando’ade _ seeing it. He doesn’t want to hear their jeers.

And then the woman  _ smiles, _ says, “You’re really good at that, trooper--what’s your name?”

Brii blinks up at her, says, “Uh, Brii? It’s short for  _ briikase,” _ and he really shouldn’t keep  _ telling _ people that, but they always look at him funny when they only hear the shortened name and he’s  _ tired _ of it. “Who are you?”

“Elle Cadera,” she says, smiles again. “You should show Jak this, he’d like it.”

Brii’s eyes go wide, because  _ no kriffing way, _ Jak is even  _ grumpier _ than the Captain, Jak calls  _ the Captain adiik! _ Also everybody’s saying Jak is the survivor of Galidraan and Brii is just a  _ shiny. _ He shakes his head determinedly. Nope, no  _ way, nayc,  _ he’s  _ not gonna. _

~~~

When Tup spots a  _ mando’ad _ holding Brii’s sketchbook, his automatic reaction is protective anger and he hurries over - but it seems he was worried for nothing, because he hears the warrior saying, “You should show Jak this, he’d like it.”

Brii shakes his head, a little frantically, although he looks surprised, and Tup holds his hand out. “Hey,  _ vod _ , you should give that back.” After he'd taken Brii’s sketches that one time to show Rex, Brii had taken him aside and asked him to not do that again. His sketches were too important to him.

The warrior turns, gives him a wary, appraising look, then passes him the sketchbook. “No harm done,” she says, and Tup nods.

“I know.” He hands the sketchbook back to Brii, who grins at him a little and almost immediately goes back to work.

Jak suddenly speaks from behind Tup, voice a frustrated growl. “Do I need to drag you two apart or are you being civil?”

Tup jumps a little. Someone in so much armor shouldn't be able to be so  _ quiet _ . He realizes their commanders will be on edge for a while, watching for fights to break out, so he shrugs, glances at the  _ mando’ad. _ “We're fine here, sir,” he says.

Jak raises his one eyebrow at his warrior, who nods. “Good,” Jak grunts, eye flicking to Brii.

Brii has gone very still and awkward on his bunk and closed his sketchbook, staring at Jak with that look he gets when he's both excited and intimidated. Tup kind of agrees with the  _ mando’ad _ \- Brii should show Jak the drawing. He doesn't know Jak, but he's been trying to convince Brii to share what he draws more often. His drawings that he's done for their battalion are treasured, Tup knows - he's been trying to get Brii to give Rex the drawing he did of the Captain because he thinks it would mean a  _ lot _ to Rex. He thinks maybe Jak would react the same way. But Brii won't ever show it to him, probably, which Tup understands, he just wishes he could get Brii to see how much his  _ vod’e _ all appreciate his gifts, tattoos and sketches alike.

Tup can't help a smile as Brii meets Jak’s eye and slowly realizes the veteran soldier expects him to say something.

“Oh, yeah, sorry- Yeah, I'm great. It's fine.” He fidgets with the edges of the pages of his sketchbook, and Jak’s eye narrows.

“You sure,  _ adiik? _ ”

“Yeah,” Brii says. “Really, sir, nobody did anything.”

Jak grunts and seems satisfied with that, because he cuffs his warrior on the shoulder and turns to go.

~~~

Brii breathes out a sigh of relief when Jak turns away; the older warrior is cool and all, but he’s also  _ really terrifying _ and can lift a  _ mando’ad _ in full  _ beskar’gam _ off the floor  _ with one hand. _ (Jak could rip his entire sketchbook in half with one tug.) He opens his sketchbook again, starts carefully adjusting the shading on Jak’s eye, trying to properly capture the emotion in the  _ mando’ad’s _ eye. Somebody says something in Mando’a--Brii catches the tail end of the sentence, but he’s too intensely focused on his drawing to pay attention--

At least, until Tup says, “He doesn’t like people watching,” and Brii’s head snaps up, automatically shifting his upper body to cover his sketchbook.

There’s someone standing in front of his bunk, at a perfect angle to see him drawing; Brii looks up--and up--and finds himself meeting Jak’s sharp grey eye. He just  _ stares _ for a moment, and then he bolts up to a sitting position, stammers out, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--I’ll throw it away--” and then Jak reaches out to the sketchbook and Brii yelps, “Don’t  _ touch that!” _ and scrambles to grab the precious book, hug it protectively to his chest. And then he  _ cringes, _ because he’s just given  _ orders _ and he’s just a shiny and-- “Please, I mean, please don’t touch it, I’m sorry--”

_ “K’uur, adiik,” _ Jak says, and Brii snaps his mouth shut with a hard  _ click. “Udesii. _ Why did you draw me?”

Brii cringes again, looks down at his book. “Uh, well, your scar is interesting, sir,” and he knows he’s flushed and breathing a bit fast, but he can’t seem to slow his breaths down. “And--I’ve already drawn my whole battalion.” Most of them, multiple times.

“Show me,” Jak says carefully, and Brii looks back up, wide-eyed--the old warrior looks interested, and amused, and maybe even a bit  _ impressed. _

Brii darts a nervous glance at Tup, who smiles encouragingly. “Go ahead,  _ ori’vod, _ you know everyone likes your drawings.”

Brii looks down, mumbles, “The Captain doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does,” Tup says, which isn’t  _ true, _ Rex had  _ told _ Brii not to draw him. (He’d done it anyway, but…)

But Jak isn’t going  _ away, _ so Brii hesitates and then opens the sketchbook, flips through a few sketches: Tuck organizing rolls of bandages in the  _ Resolute’s _ medbay; Kix meditating in the middle of his bunk; General Skywalker throwing a bread roll across a table at the Commander; Kix and Jesse playing a game of  _ dejarik; _ the drawing of the Commander stealing the Captain’s mug of caf after Kamino; Dogma taking aim at a clanker. There’s a sketch of Tup brushing his hair, another one of the Captain and the Commander not long after Kamino (Rex had been working on reports when Ahsoka had climbed into his lap with her blanket and gone to sleep, and Rex had fallen asleep with her, a small, soft smile on his face), one of the  _ many _ caricatures of Fives, and then Brii turns one page too far and accidentally reveals two of the messy sketches of the images that haunt his nightmares.

The left page shows Tup convulsing as the Chancellor electrocutes him. The right page is the Chancellor again, but from the perspective of a person on the floor of the repulsorpod; Fives stands tall and proud in front of the Chancellor, staring down at the lightsaber embedded in his chest with shock and horror and  _ confusion _ written across his face. Brii winces, flips the page quickly, lands on the picture of the Commander as she kills the Chancellor, his lightsaber still in her shoulder--the next page is her  _ sobbing _ as she presses her hands to the Captain’s cheeks as he lays there, still and small and pale. Brii mutters a curse, slams the sketchbook shut (too hard, the sound echoing in the quiet of the barracks), tries to avoid looking at Jak. Those sketches are ones he hasn’t even shown to Tup.

He hadn’t wanted  _ anyone _ to know about them.

~~~

This  _ adiik _ is too young to have seen so much, Jak thinks, looking at his bent head appraisingly. Most of these are too young for this, for that matter. The  _ jetiise _ cannot fight their own war, so they make  _ ade _ do it for them. This  _ verd _ shouldn’t be drawing his  _ vod’e _ dying.

“They’re good drawings,  _ adiik _ ,” he says gruffly. Not that he knows. “You should still draw the happy things too.” No one needs a drawing of his face - he’s certain no one who sees him forgets him. But if the  _ adiik _ wants to draw him, fine. “You won’t forget the names, even if you don’t write them down.”

He’s one to talk.

The trooper nods, but doesn’t open his sketchbook again, and Jak thinks he should leave the  _ adiik _ alone, he seems uncomfortable at best. But before he can even move, the  _ ad _ leans forward, still hugging his book to his chest, and blurts, “You remind me of the Captain, kind of.” Jak raises his eyebrow, waits. “I mean you aren’t really the same, but… you’re both really strong and you protect your men and don’t give up.” Jak doesn’t know how the  _ ad _ decided all this was true of him. “You have the same eyes, actually,” he adds, looking up and then quickly back down. “You just look older.”

“I am older,” Jak says, flat.

“And you’re both  _ grumpy _ ,” the  _ adiik _ adds, and then he  _ winces _ and a red flush spreads over his whole face. Jak’s lips twitch in the beginnings of an involuntary smile, but he controls it. “ _ Kriff _ , I’m sorry, that was so rude, I didn’t mean to say that, sir.”

Jak holds up his hand because he’s beginning to think this  _ ad _ doesn’t ever stop talking. The long-haired  _ verd _ nearby smirks a little - Jak suspects this is  _ normal _ . “What’s your name,  _ adiik? _ ” he sighs, lets himself smile just enough, just the barest thing. He thinks if he doesn’t, the trooper will be afraid of him.

“I’m Brii,” the trooper says. “Short for- Well, it’s just Brii.” He’s still very red.

His  _ vod _ nods a little. “It’s short for  _ briikase _ ,” he says, and Jak can’t help a slightly wider smile. He’s almost not surprised. This one draws the dying on one page of his sketchbook and fills the rest with his  _ vod’e _ .

All the more reason he’s too young for this war.

“Yeah,” Brii says, sheepishly.

His  _ vod _ turns to Elle, and Jak still isn’t sure he trusts them to talk without fighting so he stays and fixes Elle with a glare so she knows he expects her to be  _ civil _ . The long-haired trooper gestures at Brii almost  _ conspiratorially _ and says, “If you need a tattoo, he’s the one to ask. He’s  _ great _ at them.”

This sort of thing has always interested Elle, so she nods, grins a little.

“The catch is, if you decide you  _ don’t _ need one, he might give you one anyway while you’re sleeping.”

“Hey!” Brii protests, leaning forward. “That was  _ your _ idea, Tup.”

_ Ade.  _ Jak is surrounded by  _ ade _ .

“You didn’t  _ have _ to take the bet,” his  _ vod _ , Tup apparently, answers. “You could have just said you wouldn’t because Fives didn’t want you to.”

“Well that wouldn’t have been  _ fun _ .”

Fun. What a sentiment. But he sees Brii’s face fall, and remembers that  _ Fives _ is one of the  _ Alor’ad’s _ names. The  _ adiik _ had probably done those tattoos himself. Jak shouldn’t care. The  _ Kyr’tsad _ is his family, but he has learned he can’t risk caring about anyone  _ besides _ them. He has no space for that.

And yet here he is.

~~~

Brii swallows, tries not to think about  _ Fives, _ about Fives being  _ dead, _ about Fives and the Chancellor’s lightsaber and--he starts talking, all in a rush, trying to get the memories  _ out. _ “Tup bet me I couldn’t add colors to Fives’ tattoo without him waking up, but he didn’t say I couldn’t have help,” Brii explains to Elle, who looks more and more amused by this all. “So I had Tuck--that’s Kix’s assistant--well he’s technically a senior medic now too, because the Temple medics wouldn’t  _ listen to him _ after Kamino, when Kix was hurt and so was the Commander and the medics wouldn’t let the Captain stay with her and--” he’s rambling, and Tup gives him a  _ look _ that says  _ shut up. _ He swallows. “Um. Anyway, so General Skywalker promoted Tuck so the medics would have to listen to him, it was pretty cool, but anyway--Tuck gave me a sedative for Fives in exchange for half the credits, so I won the bet.”

Elle is  _ laughing. _

Brii isn’t sure if she’s laughing at his story or at the look on Jak’s face--the older  _ mando’ad _ looks thoroughly  _ overwhelmed, _ and Brii grins sheepishly. “Sorry, everybody says I talk a lot.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Jak mutters under his breath, dryly, but there’s a  _ tiny _ smile hovering on the corners of his mouth and Brii takes that as a victory.

“Skywalker promoted your junior medic just so the Temple’s staff would listen to him?” Elle asks, still grinning, though she’s sobered a bit.

“Tuck deserved it,” Tup says, shrugs a bit. “He  _ did _ perform seven unfamiliar brain surgeries with unfamiliar equipment under… extreme duress.” He pauses, and then adds, “The most important thing you have to know about fighting with this battalion is that the General just… does things sometimes, and usually he’s breaking rules, or  _ creatively interpreting _ orders,” and Brii snorts because both the General and the Commander use that phrase all the time, “or just flat-out ignoring everyone and doing his own thing. Usually Kenobi goes along with him.”

Brii grins. “I think General Kenobi goes along with General Skywalker just to keep the General from getting  _ murdered,” _ and then he  _ winces, _ bites his lip  _ hard, _ because he remembers  _ execute order sixty-six _ and  _ vod’e _ dying and Jedi dying and  _ too much _ and Senators shooting to kill. (He tastes blood and forces his jaw to unclench.)

~~~

General Skywalker sounds  _ irresponsible _ . Jak increasingly finds himself thinking he doesn't know what his  _ Man’dalor _ has gotten him into. And Brii has gotten subdued again - Jak can't keep up with how fast his mood changes. Tup sits down on the bunk next to Brii, and Elle looks over at Jak like she expects him to have answers.

He shakes his head at her. He doesn't know anything more about these men than she does, except for what little their  _ Alor’ad _ has told him. And he doesn't want to know more than he has to. This alliance is necessary to get rid of the  _ dar’jetii, _ and that's all.

“Anyway,” Tup says, glancing at Jak before looking back at Elle, “the point is, General Skywalker tends to improvise a lot and it seems best to just go along with it.”

Jak doesn't say what he's thinking, that that's not  _ practical _ in battle and in fact, it's probably dangerous. Why he'd expected anything different from a  _ jetii _ is beyond him. (It's probably how much the clones seem to trust their  _ jetiise _ , but all the same.) “We'll see,” he says instead. He won't play along with the  _ jetii’s _ apparent impulsiveness, not unless he finds it's more calculated than Tup has made it sound.

The clones may trust their  _ jetiise _ , but that's what they were made for. Jak isn't so easily persuaded anymore. He's learned not to put his trust anywhere until he's sure it won't be used against him.

~~~

The day after Kix  _ finally _ takes Ahsoka’s sling off, the Council assigns the 501st, the 212th, and the Death Watch their first mission: to retake Felucia. Master Aayla Secura had been heading the Felucia campaign with the 327th when Order Sixty-Six had been activated, and the majority of her battalion had died in the infighting that occured--the rest had been massacred by Separatist forces not long after. It’s a fairly simple mission for the two best battalions in the GAR, nothing like the battle for Umbara had been, but Ahsoka thinks that’s intentional; the Death Watch warriors are as of yet untested and nobody knows for sure if they’ll  _ actually _ stay loyal in a fight. 

She goes with Rex--who’s been cleared (extremely reluctantly) for battle as well, though Kix had threatened severe bodily pain as punishment if Rex reinjured his abdomen--to the barracks to give the orders and get the men on the  _ Resolute. _ Bo-Katan, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are in the middle of reviewing intel about Felucia, making battle plans; usually, Ahsoka would join them, but she thinks with three generals already, the planning will be a bit…  _ crowded. _

Besides, she’d rather be with Rex anyway.

She keys in the code to the barracks, the door hissing open in front of her, and follows Rex in; things have been… calmer, since the first day, though the hothead  _ mando’ad, _ Crys Rodarch, has continued making snippy comments. Not about Order Sixty-Six, at least: that’s off-limits, and everyone’s gotten the memo by now. 

Jesse looks up when she and Rex enter, calls out, “Do we finally have a mission, Commander?”

Ahsoka grins, nods. “We’re shipping out now, boys. The mission is to retake Felucia,” and then she falls silent, lets Rex take the lead.

~~~

Rex crosses his arms over his chest and steps up next to Ahsoka, gives her a small smile. He can tell not all of the Death Watch want to listen to him, still, but he holds most of the warriors’ full attention. He thinks they’ve  _ all _ been itching for a fight.

“We’re tag-teaming this with General Kenobi and the 212th,” Rex says, sees his men nod approvingly. They all prefer missions with the 212th - partly because with Kenobi around, they don’t have to worry so much about Anakin. This time he thinks they’ll also feel better having another battalion around in case the Death Watch betrays them after all. “General Secura managed to secure a small outpost there and her men held onto it through Order 66; we’re headed there so we have a secure base to attack from. The Separatist forces have a new airbase nearby, and our intelligence says it’s their main center of operations, planetside. General Adi Gallia is organizing an airstrike on the outpost. It’s our job to make sure it succeeds. The Generals will give us our orders once we get there, but that’s the objective. If we knock out that airbase, the Seppies only have a few other outposts on Felucia. They’ll be easy to take.”

He sees Crys’ lip curl in a familiar sneer, the one that usually precludes a mocking comment, and Rex sighs and raises an eyebrow, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “Be ready to ship out in half an hour.”

His men leap into action with practiced efficiency, and he sees the Death Watch hesitating before a nod from Jak sends them to get their kit and weapons. The  _ mando’ade _ are good warriors, but they are not  _ soldiers _ \- Rex knows his men could be ready in fifteen if he needed it, maybe less with more warning, but they’ve been training for that since they could stand. The Death Watch is more disorganized, if fast. Rex finds himself thinking  _ they could use work _ , before reminding himself that he shouldn’t really make it a goal to make terrorists into more effective soldiers. They’re enough of a threat without his help.

It’s a relief to finally settle back into the familiar battle-ready mindset, into stubborn calm and a bare minimum of worry. It’s what’s always enabled him to put losses behind and move on - he’s never had to go this long after losing  _ vod’e _ without fighting, and he’s decided he  _ hates  _ it. Grief is too hard when it’s all he has to focus on.

Now, though, he simply doesn’t have space to think about his losses, and it’s better that way. Easier. Even if he won’t be at his best, with how much his healing stomach and back still hurt him. Kix has given him half-a-dozen rules he’s supposed to stick to so he doesn’t hurt himself worse, and Rex doesn’t  _ like _ them, but it’s better than having to sit the battle out.

_ It’s about time they let us back out on the field _ , he thinks to Soka, giving her a smirking grin.

~~~

Ahsoka returns the grin and the sentiment, watching the Death Watch warriors as they kit up. Most of them are disorganized, though fast--they don’t have routines, procedures, haven’t  _ trained _ for this. There are exceptions: Jak (who only ever removes his upper body armor) is fully kitted up, with his helmet, jetpack, and modified Mandalorian blaster pistols ready to go in about two minutes; Elle Cadera, who is an absolute  _ terror _ in hand-to-hand and who can shoot the antenna off a droid from a hundred meters (she’d proved that one morning when Artoo had rolled into the barracks, followed by his new trio of reprogrammed battle droids--apparently he’d pestered Anakin to replace the ones lost in the Citadel infiltration; she’d startled awake and shot the antennae off of all three droids before anyone could tell her to wait), is fully kitted in under five. The 501st veterans--Jesse, Tup, Kix, and some of the squadron leaders--are ready next.

Ahsoka’s own squad, who’ve taken to calling themselves Domino in remembrance of Fives, is the first to be completely ready. Jesse, Kix, Tuck, Tup, and Brii are formed up, ready and waiting, before half the Death Watch are even kitted up.

Still, it only takes about fifteen minutes for everyone to get ready, and the battalion follows Ahsoka and Rex to the hangar, where Cody is already loading the 212th onto transports. He acknowledges their presence with a nod and a salute at Ahsoka, then turns back to his work.

Ahsoka turns to her battalion. “Squad up,” she says, “onto the transports. I want a 501st veteran with every Death Watch squad.”

“Get moving,” Rex adds. “The Seppies aren’t going to wait around on us!”

~~~

Rex has only fought on Felucia a few times before, and he decides that it is not a planet that improves with familiarity. It’s nothing but humid, tangled, and burning hot, and even though they’re better at fighting in the jungles than the Seppies’ droids, every assault is a struggle.

He’s been forbidden from marching at the front of the assault, and he  _ hates _ that, hates letting Jak Ordo and Ahsoka and his General lead the way without him, but Kix is technically right, he needs to be careful of himself or he’ll be stuck leading from behind for a lot longer. That doesn’t make it any easier.

Their battalions are each split up into two smaller attack forces, each with some of the  _ mando’ade _ with them, so they can come at the airbase from all sides. Rex is more or less relegated to providing cover fire while his force takes out anti-aircraft weaponry and, hopefully, break into the hangar itself. He crouches in the moist, foul-smelling earth with his men, waits for General Kenobi’s signal to move; he can already hear Kenobi’s forces attacking, distracting, the ever-familiar sounds of battle fading into a background hum.

Kix is waiting next to Ahsoka, his lightsaber held in his hand, thumb hovering over the switch. He glances back at Rex and narrows his eyes a little, and Rex gets the unspoken message to  _ be careful _ . He’ll try, at least, so he nods, claps a hand on Brii’s shoulder and gives the kid a small smile. Brii is a good fighter but still a shiny, still new to campaigns like this.

“Don’t try to be a hero, kid,” he says quietly.

Brii nods, and Rex lets go, lifts both his DC-17s, and waits. The smell of the jungle is beginning to get to him, but it’s at least better than the smell of blood and burned flesh and dying.

Anakin lifts his hand, crooks his fingers in a simple hand signal, and their force gets to their feet in near-silence, weapons at the ready. Then Anakin’s wristcomm crackles, and General Kenobi says,  _ “Any time you’d like to jump in is fine, Anakin _ .”

Four sabers burn bright against the jungle foliage, and Rex charges forward with his Jedi and his men, the heat and energy of battle already sending fire through his limbs, dulling the ever-present pain in his torso to a mere distraction.

He’s  _ missed _ this, and he lets a fierce smile spread across his face as he bursts into the sunlight, four neat, swift shots taking out four clankers.  _ Come on, then _ .

~~~

The plan to take the airbase is fairly simple, as far as “Skywalker and Kenobi” plans go; Obi-Wan and the majority of the 212th, with about half the Death Watch forces, are attacking the main entrance as a diversion, to draw out as many of the droids as possible, while the majority of the 501st plus the rest of the Death Watch has split into large squads and targeted the antiaircraft guns dotted around the base’s perimeter. Bo-Katan and a strike force of about thirty  _ mando’ade, _ all with jetpacks, are infiltrating the base and blowing up the shield generator.

And then there’s the last part of the plan, the part that’d been added on last-minute as they’d crept through the Felucian jungle. Their intel had the airbase as being exclusively staffed with droids, but life-scans and scouting reports confirmed the presence of an army of sentients. The airbase’s hangar already contains multiple single-capacity starfighters, and if the fighters are allowed to get into the air, the entire campaign will be jeopardized. 

Hence Ahsoka’s assignment: take a small strike team inside the base and set charges around the hangar, destroying it before the ships within can be used. She relays her plan to Rex, mentally, half so he can point out any strategic errors, half so he’ll know where she’s going.

_ I’m coming with you, _ is his immediate response, and Ahsoka sighs, deflects a blaster bolt back at the clanker who’d shot it.

_ You’re supposed to stay off the front line, _ she argues, because Kix will  _ kill _ her if she lets him come, and also he’s still injured and he needs to recover and the front line is a big risk already, not to mention a  _ strike team. _

_ You need me on your six, _ Rex says back.

_ I’ll have the Death Watch and Brii with me. _

_ I don’t trust Death Watch, and Brii’s a shiny. I’m coming with you. _

She’d  _ like _ to argue more with him, but he’s already made his mind up, and she can’t deny she’ll be more comfortable with him on her six, so she projects grudging agreement and gestures to Brii and the four Death Watch warriors around her--Elle, Jak, and two others she doesn’t know. The  _ mando’ade _ have been educated on GAR hand signals, which makes communication easier, and they follow her as she breaks away from the main body of their attack force, runs for the base of the wall. 

Rex meets them there.

“For the record,” Ahsoka says, “when Kix yells at you for this, I  _ tried _ to get you to stay back.”

“You could’ve ordered me to,” Rex says, projects dry amusement, and she rolls her eyes.

“Right, because you would’ve  _ listened _ to an order,” and she huffs out a sigh. “Brii, Rex, do you have ascension cables, or do I need to throw you?”

They have ascension cables.

“Great. On my mark,” and Ahsoka falls silent, counts down with her fingers, and then signals, right before a Force-augmented jump has her soaring up onto the top of the wall. She flips, lands with her ‘sabers out, clears the droids off with a few quick thrusts.

The sounds of battle drift up from below, and she winces as someone screams, as an armored body hits the moldy undergrowth and doesn’t move again. Her men are  _ dying, _ and should be  _ down there, _ protecting them--

But too many more will die if the hangar isn’t destroyed, so she takes a deep breath, nods at her team (Jak is still hovering in midair, firing down on the clankers with machinelike precision and incredible accuracy), jumps down off the wall, tucks and rolls back to her feet, gesturing with one hand.  _ Are you sure you’re okay for this? _ she asks Rex silently, letting him feel some of her worry.

~~~

_ Yes, I know what I’m doing _ , Rex says, more impatiently than he means to. Whether his injury will get in his way is actually doubtful, but he’s sure nevertheless. His men have the assault just fine - but like he told Ahsoka, there are too many  _ mando’ade _ in her strike team, and Brii is good but he’s inexperienced. So he has to go.

(It never occurs to him to send Jesse or Kix or another  _ vod _ .)

Still, jumping down from the wall  _ hurts _ , and he clings to the basics of getting back to his feet as smoothly as he can, throwing himself back into a combat stance to shoot the few clankers and human pilots outside the hangar doors. Jak lands heavily next to him, raising his blaster and firing without wasting any movement, barely misses, doesn’t even budge from his position unless he has to get out of the way of a blaster bolt. Rex  _ should _ try to stand as still, for the sake of his healing injury, but it’s not how he fights, and if he  _ has _ to stand back and shoot then he’s at least not going to be an easy target.

They’ve taken out what little resistance there is in a moment, and Rex and Jak signal for the strike team to form up around Ahsoka as she begins slicing through the hangar doors; they’re thick, and she’s slow, but Rex isn’t concerned. The  _ mando’ade _ are, as he expected, great warriors, if a little unorthodox. At this point, if something works, he doesn’t really care whether it’s traditional or not.

Most of the enemy are apparently either inside the hangar or out on the field, because they don’t have many more guards to engage. When Rex sees Ahsoka’s almost through the door, he sends (mostly without meaning to),  _ You should let someone else go in first _ .

There will be resistance waiting for them and the hangar door will make a dangerous choke point; they don’t have time to find another way in or Rex would suggest it.

He knows she won’t let anyone else go first, but he had to try.

_ Like hells I will _ , she thinks, and Rex sighs and gestures for Elle and another  _ mando’ad  _ to push forward. “Grenades,” he says, taking a grenade off his own belt. No use in letting their opponents make the rules.

“Way ahead of you,” Elle says, and she is. Rex likes that about her.

Ahsoka  _ pushes _ the piece of the door she carved free, and as it slams to the ground inside the hangar, Elle almost shoves past Ahsoka and launches three explosives; Rex and the other warrior quickly follow with their own.

Rex automatically grabs Ahsoka around the shoulders, hauls her back from the door to avoid the blast of heat and flame and debris, and quickly realizes that was a  _ mistake _ and unnecessary - but it’s done, and they have to press their advantage while they have it, so he lets go of Ahsoka and falls back behind her so she can lead. Elle is already holding two more grenades in one hand and a droid popper in the other, grinning, and Rex grins back at her - he  _ definitely _ likes her.

~~~

Whoever’s running the tactics for this outpost has apparently spent  _ time _ studying Jedi tactics, especially the 501st, Ahsoka thinks--there’s an entire small  _ army _ crammed inside the hangar, around the starfighters, as though they’d  _ known _ her team was coming, and  _ they  _ hadn’t even known they were coming until a few minutes ago. The pilots are in their ships, guns aimed at the hangar doors (kriff), and there are  _ multiple _ droidekas with their shield generators arrayed in a semicircle around the entrance, multiple squads of battle droids behind them, and she thinks she sees some commando droids (the nasty ones) in the shadows,  _ waiting. _

Kriff.

_ “Hukaat’kama!” _ Elle snaps out, and then she’s  _ moving,  _ throwing her grenades over the droidekas at the battle droids behind, and--

“Fuel cells!” Ahsoka shouts, and Elle flips her a thumbs-up and tosses her second grenade at one of the fighters’ fuel cells. The ship explodes outwards in a blossom of fire, takes out an entire squadron of battle droids with it, and Ahsoka grins.

Elle laughs, dodges a few blaster bolts, rolls her droid popper into one of the droidekas, and Ahsoka jumps forward too, gestures the rest of her team to follow, except,  _ Rex, watch the door, _ and  _ yes _ she’s partially doing that to keep him out of trouble but also because they need to  _ know _ if someone comes up and tries to trap them inside.

_ I’m not a protocol droid, _ he grumbles,  _ make Brii do it. _

_ Brii can’t shout straight in my mind if we have company, _ Ahsoka says back, firmly, and that’s the end of that as far as she’s concerned.

Rex sulks, but he stays at the door--which is good, because the starfighter pilots start shooting at them, and she’s suddenly having to flip and Force-jump across the hangar to try and deflect the bolts, and there are too  _ many _ ships, and-- “Brii! Get the fighters down!”

Brii snaps out a messy salute, pulls out a grenade in one hand, his blaster in the other, lobs the grenade into the fuel cells of the nearest fighter, shoots two battle droids advancing on him without even  _ looking, _ and Ahsoka grins-- _ this _ is why she’d brought him along. She drops a droid popper in the center of a mass of clankers, deflects a few shots away from Elle as the Mandalorian drops droid poppers in a couple more droidekas and shoots them, leaps onto another fighter and cuts through the cockpit, pulling the pilot out with the Force. Jak and the other two Death Watch warriors are doing something similar, using their jetpacks to cross between fighters quickly, and she nods approvingly, an idea entering her head at the sight.

She deactivates her ‘sabers, jumps into the cockpit, spins the lasers around and targets the ship next to her, grins fiercely as it blows--

And then she sees, through the glass of the cockpit, Brii attempting to take down another fighter--and behind him, a tangle of commando droids, who leap out and  _ surround _ him and she struggles out of the ship, grabs her ‘sabers, but she’s  _ not going to get there in time _ and--

And from out of absolutely  _ nowhere, _ a blur of blue-and-white streaks into the middle of the knot of droids, and in the time it takes Ahsoka to flip off the top of the ship and land by Brii, all but one of the commando droids are sparking piles of scrap on the ground. She cuts the last one in thirds, turns a little to  _ stare _ at Jak Ordo, because  _ kriffing hells. _

“Watch yourself,  _ ad,” _ Jak says gruffly, and then his blasters are out again and he leaps back into the air, his jetpack igniting.

~~~

Brii forgets about trying to get his grenade into the fighter in favor of turning all his attention to the commando droids that have come out of  _ kriffing nowhere _ \- they swarm him, all at once, and they don’t go down easily like normal droids and he doesn’t know what to do because he can’t shoot fast enough, and they’re too close for him to use his grenade. One actually launches itself at him and he shoots three times, manages to blow its head off, but they’re not  _ stopping _ and he swears, looks around for Commander Tano or anyone, really- and he’s not sure where he comes from, even, but suddenly Jak Ordo is  _ there _ , grabbing a droid and yanking its head off in a shower of sparks, grabbing what’s left of it and shoving it into several of the other droids. Jak moves like an avalanche; slow to begin but a disaster when he does, faster than Brii had ever expected, using his blaster as a bludgeon but nothing else. He doesn’t smile while he fights like the Captain, he just…  _ moves _ . Brii thinks he should lift his blaster again and join the fight but he doesn’t even  _ need _ to. Jak is all curled fists and brutal ease, using the scrapped droids he demolishes as weapons or just distractions until Brii almost blinks and there are nothing but sparking pieces left.

Jak grinds the heel of his boot into a sputtering droid’s head and turns to Brii just as Commander Tano drops lightly to the ground next to them, her eyes wide. She swipes her saber out to her right without looking and Brii startles as one more commando droid falls to the ground in three pieces.

Woah.

Brii thinks he  _ might _ be gaping at Jak and tells himself, firmly, to stop it. Jak’s expression doesn’t change, he just meets Brii’s eyes and holds his gaze. “Watch yourself,  _ ad _ ,” he says, and Brii nods quickly, tightens his grip on his blaster as Jak takes off again like nothing happened.

_ Kriffing hells _ .

He glances at Commander Tano and finds she looks just as shocked still - but she seems to give herself a shake and smiles grimly at Brii. “What he said. Take care of that fighter, would you?”

Brii grins. He can do that. He tosses his grenade into the air, catches it, and takes off running for the fighter, having to run around scattered droid parts as he does.

Kriffing Jak Ordo is  _ cool _ .

~~~

Elle Cadera has been called many things over her twenty-six years of life, some of them  _ quite _ creative and colorful. The words  _ reckless _ and  _ insane _ and  _ kriffing Mandalorians _ have been repeated multiple times, and while apparently they’re supposed to be  _ insults, _ Elle takes great pride in her reckless Mandalorian insanity.

She might be insane, she muses, but she’s not insane enough to comment about the scene she’d just witnessed--Jak abandoning a squadron of battle droids to  _ launch _ himself across the hangar at a bunch of kriffing commando droids attacking the kid, Brii, short for  _ briikase. _

She’s  _ never _ seen him do that, in the ten years since she’d helped break him out of slavery. Jak Ordo has always made it  _ perfectly clear _ that he can and will leave anyone behind to die if he must; if you get injured on a mission with him and can’t keep up, you get left behind, simple as that. He won’t risk the safety of the entire team for one person.

(Of course, she’s also never  _ actually _ seen him leave anyone behind, but that’s because missions with Jak tend to be safer. He’s more careful, doesn’t take the risks their  _ Mand’alor _ does, or some of the younger lieutenants, or, hells, even Elle herself. And he’s also a kriffing  _ murder machine _ in a fight, like  _ seriously.) _

Maybe that  _ alone, _ him being aware enough of Brii to save the  _ adiik’s _ life, wouldn’t be all that surprising, but Elle is still enjoying flying around and blowing fighters up, and she’s close enough to hear Jak’s parting words:  _ watch yourself,  _ ad.

_ Ad. _

No kriffing  _ way. _

But Elle is  _ definitely _ smart enough to not ask Jak about this particular… thing, and anyway there’s still a hangar to blow up, and Kenobi’s battalion to reinforce (Kenobi shouldn’t even be  _ fighting, _ she’d heard about the shot he’d taken, it should’ve killed him, but apparently he’s gotten enough healing his medic, Scratch, couldn’t  _ force _ him to stay behind--Jak would be  _ so irritated _ if he knew that), and she has to make sure her  _ Mand’alor _ is still doing fine (though, honestly, Bo-Katan is probably doing better than they are, considering she’s got thirty  _ mando’ade _ with her), so she concentrates on the battle. She pulls out her blaster pistols, starts firing at the fuel cells on another ship--doesn’t work quite as well as a grenade, and so she shoots a squadron of battle droids down, one-two-three-four and repeat, and holsters her blasters, pulls out her grenades again. (She’ll have to get more after this, she’s going to run out at this rate, which is a shame--one should never be out of grenades.)

Another ship blows, and that’s  _ definitely _ not one she’d been targeting, she’s  _ far _ too close to it, and she  _ swears _ because the heat hits first, a wave of force pushing her off-balance, and then debris smacks into her side and she’s tumbling out-of-control through the air. What the  _ kriff, _ who  _ did that? _ Elle twists in midair, but she can’t get her wild spin under control, and she  _ swears, _ prepares for a hard landing (this is gonna  _ hurt),  _ and then--

Someone  _ slams _ into her side, hard, scoops her out of the air and lands in a controlled roll, and Elle sucks in a breath and looks up to see the  _ jetii _ Commander, Tano, vaulting after another collection of droids.

Where the  _ kriff _ had she come from?

Elle shakes her head, toggles her in-helmet comm to the Republic frequency, says, “I’d appreciate  _ not _ getting blown up, thanks.” Or crashing, or almost having her jetpack compromised, which would  _ also _ get her blown up, painfully.

If that was one of the two _Kyr’tsad_ _mando’ade_ who pulled that stunt, she’s going to _kill them_ later. (It’s too bad, she thinks, that Crys Rodarch isn’t here--she’d _love_ an excuse to kill the _di’kut.)_

~~~

Brii could  _ kick _ himself except he’s already running to the next fighter, shooting its pilot through the open cockpit and then taking aim at the flight crew and a few droids. He’s not really used to having to watch out for people  _ flying _ around like kriffing  _ birds _ while he’s fighting. He really hopes Elle never figures out it’s his fault she almost crashed; he wouldn’t put it past her to poison his food or put fireworks in his bunk.

She’s fun, but he thinks it’s probably a lot more fun when she’s pranking  _ other _ people and not him.

The hangar has collapsed into smoky, burning chaos, and he’s losing track of the fighters that are left, if any, and it gets easier to just focus on the barest essentials, on shooting droids and flinging grenades at fighters. It isn’t long (or maybe it is and he doesn’t notice) before a hand on his shoulder yanks him sharply back to a wider awareness and he winces, a little sheepish. It’s the Captain, smiling at him a little. “Stand down,  _ vod _ , we can take a breather. You did good.”

The hangar is full of flames and Brii can’t see any fighters left standing, which he thinks is probably good. Jak and Elle and Commander Tano and the others gather around them, and Brii grins at Elle, tries to pretend he didn’t just almost blow her up.

She smiles back and he looks down fast because he’s pretty sure he looks guilty and he does  _ not _ want her mad at him.

“The  _ Mand’alor _ is on track to get the shields down,” Jak says gruffly, and Commander Tano nods.

“Good.”

Brii looks up again and Elle is eyeing him with narrowed eyes like she’s onto him. Kriff it. He grins (feels heat spreading over his face, damnit) and pretends to be listening very closely to Captain Rex, although actually he has no idea what they’re talking about because Elle’s eyes are glittering and he decides he should prepare himself for the very real possibility that she knows it was him who almost blew her up. Maybe if he offers to help her prank Jak (like he helped Commander Tano do to the Captain, once), she won’t be mad.

But Elle makes a very deliberate slashing gesture across her throat with one finger, and  _ kriff  _ he wishes he were more subtle, but he gulps. “I didn’t mean to!” he protests, and Elle looks surprised for a second before bursting into a laugh and Brii really  _ should _ kick himself, dear  _ kriffing hells. _

The Captain still has his helmet on, but Brii knows the look he’ll have on his face: unimpressed, an eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for Brii to just  _ shut up _ already. “Am I missing out on something funny in this situation?” he says dryly. “Or am I to assume the two of you have suddenly developed the ability to communicate telepathically? At least  _ pretend _ you’re listening, please?”

Brii doesn’t think the Captain is one to talk; he and the Commander do this kind of thing a lot.

Granted, the Captain doesn’t normally interrupt General Skywalker with it either, so…

“Sorry, Captain,” he says, sheepishly, “I was just- I kind of almost blew her up, but I didn’t  _ mean to _ -” and Elle makes a crude gesture with her left hand that she keeps refusing to explain to Brii but that he  _ thinks _ roughly equivocates to “kriff you and your mother.”

“Joke’s on you, I don’t have a mother,” he mutters, and the Captain sighs loudly.

“If you’re  _ done _ yet, I’ve been trying to say we need to get back out and support our attack forces. Assuming the two of you think it’s worth your time.”

Brii  _ wants _ to grumble because the Captain isn’t really being fair- but also, he’s right. They’re still in the middle of a battle.

Which means Elle can’t kill him  _ yet _ , right? She’ll have to wait till after - Brii can convince her not to kill him between now and the end of the battle, probably. Maybe.

He might have to promise to give Jak a tattoo. Something rude in Mando’a, probably. He’s not sure, he just doesn’t want Elle to put fireworks in his bunk.

“Sorry, Captain,” he says again, and Rex snorts, shrugs a little. Brii takes that to mean  _ no harm done _ .

~~~

When his  _ Mand’alor _ had suggested this alliance, Jak had not expected to be fighting with so many  _ ade. _ No, Elle isn’t  _ helping _ matters, but the  _ adiik, _ Brii, is certainly enough of a distraction on his own. Lack of focus.

(A part of him, long forgotten, finds it almost  _ endearing.) _

This  _ adiik _ isn’t cut to be a soldier, Jak thinks; he is too young and unfocused and… and that is the crux of this whole thing, this war, fought by  _ ade _ wearing his former  _ Mand’alor’s _ face. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now, doesn’t want the distraction, so he clears his throat and says, “We need to find the  _ Mand’alor.” _

“She’s attacking the shield generator,” the  _ jetii  _ Commander says, and Jak fights back a growl. He  _ knows _ that.

“I know,” and it takes all his self-control not to snap the words. “Let’s go.”

He starts off before the  _ jetii _ agrees, because he’s going after his  _ Mand’alor _ whether the  _ jetii _ likes it or not. Luckily, Tano hums an agreement and follows him (he does  _ not _ like having her behind him, where he cannot see her), and the rest of her team falls in behind. 

They meet the  _ Mand’alor _ as she and her warriors spill out from an exploding building--Jak finds himself  _ almost _ impressed, although not exactly, because very little  _ impresses _ him these days, but if he  _ were _ to be impressed it would be by the sheer amount of  _ fire. _ Fifty years old and he has yet to see durasteel burn quite this…  _ intensely. _ Had he been younger, he might’ve asked her exactly  _ what _ she uses to blow things up so well, but… he’s no  _ adiik. _ So he just inclines his head respectfully, waits for her to land.

The  _ Mand’alor _ pulls her helmet off, grins at him, at the  _ jetii _ behind him, at the  _ Alor’ad, _ at kriffing  _ Elle, _ and he sighs, because Bo-Katan is always in high spirits after blowing things up. He supposes it must be therapeutic for her. “Jak, Tano, Captain,” she says, grins brighter, “ready to go kick some  _ shebs?” _

Inside his helmet, Jak raises his single eyebrow, singularly  _ unamused. _ Every kriffing  _ time. _ When he speaks, though, his voice is level and calm as always. “Lead the way,  _ Mand’alor.” _

Bo-Katan jams her helmet on again, leaps back into the air, her warriors following behind her; Jak nearly joins her, but the  _ Alor’ad _ and Tano and the  _ adiik _ don’t have jetpacks, and he’s technically under Tano’s command right now, so he stays grounded. 

They run through the airbase towards the main gates, where Kenobi’s forces are still engaging most of the  _ aru’e, _ and Elle keeps kicking into the air and dropping grenades on buildings--which Jak  _ should _ discipline her for, later, but she’s the  _ Mand’alor’s _ third and Bo-Katan will reprimand Elle if she feels like it. (Jak doesn’t think she will; Bo-Katan also loves explosions.)

He doesn’t think the  _ Alor’ad _ should be running this much, but he knows better than to think the  _ verd _ will leave his  _ jetii’s _ side during a battle. Tano clearly thinks the same thing, because she casts the  _ Alor’ad _ a worried look, presses her lips together, but doesn’t say anything. (A part of him wonders how long it took her to learn not to ask.)

There’s still an army of battle droids up ahead, and the  _ Mand’alor _ signals her warriors forward, starts an aerial attack. Jak lifts his blasters, takes aim, fires, one-two-three-four and repeat, twist, one-two-three-four-repeat, every shot hitting its mark. Repeat, repeat, repeat. The  _ jetii _ doesn’t need his help, she is good with her  _ jetii’kade, _ and the  _ Alor’ad _ stays back like his  _ baar’ur _ said to, and his warriors are in the air.

His  _ ad _ is--not struggling, but  _ unfocused. _ That will not do. Jak shoots, one-two-three-four, jogs over to his  _ ad, _ says, “Focus.”

“I  _ am _ focusing,” Brii grumbles churlishly, and Jak shakes his head, shoots a droideka before it can get its shield generator online.

“Talk less, shoot more.”

His _ad_ _humphs,_ but raises his blaster, takes aim, and Jak nods approvingly (one-two-three-four-repeat). Smashes one blaster into a commando droid, holsters the other, grabs the droid’s neck-joint and holds it still while he shoots it. Throws the droid into another, draws his blaster, one-two-three-four and “Down, _ad,”_ and one-two-three-four over his head.

Pivot.

Repeat.

~~~

The field in front of the outpost walls is just a press of bodies, white and blue and orange and grey armor, and Rex can’t be totally isolated from it, can’t keep out of a few scuffles, exchanged blows. He tries to obey Kix’s orders, though, and stays  _ back _ (except he hates that, it’s not what he  _ does _ , and Ahsoka is fighting where he can’t quite get to her).

Still, Rex thinks they may be close to breaking the Seppies’ line; with their forces hammering at them from both sides and their Jedi in the lead (Rex can see Kix through the struggling droids and he's still easily deflecting blaster bolts), he'd be concerned if they  _ didn't _ get through soon.

He thinks Brii might be hyperfocusing again, so he pushes past a few  _ mando’ade _ and settles behind Brii, holsters one DC to grab his arm. The kid startles, and Rex lets go. “You need to pull back and get a breather if you start doing that-” he shoots two droids and shoves Brii to one side so a bolt shrieks past him “-okay?”

“Yeah.”

Rex draws his blaster pistol again and stays next to Brii - the kid is an intuitive fighter, Rex thinks, isn't afraid to get in close if he has to. Rex should probably get back behind the line where he can't get into a close-quarters fight with any of the droids, but he doesn't. He's fine here - he's closer to Ahsoka, and someone has to watch Brii’s back. It might as well be him.

Rex grabs the arm of a battle droid that gets to close, yanks it off balance and shoots its head off, drops it. Another one in front of him raises its blaster, and Rex ducks under the shot, shoots its legs and then its blaster and head as it falls. There's a certain satisfaction in the ease of killing clankers.

(His stomach hurts but not badly enough that he needs to worry, so he stays.)

_ Rex, Kix told you to stay back! _

He sighs and twists out of the way of a rapid series of shots. The soft earth is kriffing hard to get purchase in.  _ Yes, cyare, I'm aware of that. _

He feels a strong pulse of exasperation and worry, and he dismisses it.  _ I told you, I know what I'm doing. _

The wound hasn't reopened. They're just fighting clankers, he's not so worried about that happening.

Jak Ordo slams through a row of clankers over to Brii’s side, like he's checking up on him, and Rex smiles a little behind his helmet. So Brii might have someone watching his back after all.

Rex shoots a droid over Jak’s shoulder, takes a few steps back as a small group of droids rushes them and shoots, watches them crumple with a familiar clatter of metal.

Droids are easy.

Ahsoka certainly thinks so; he keeps checking on her even though he  _ clearly _ doesn't need to - he doesn't think he'll ever tire of watching her fight, how easily she uses her sabers, like they're part of her, the flex and twist of her muscles when she jumps through the air, impales two droids on her sabers.

But he should pay more attention to his surroundings. He feels a hum of amusement from Ahsoka and curses privately. He should really shield some of those sorts of things, it's kriffing  _ embarrassing _ when she notices.

He shoots a droid in the chest and decides to worry about that later.

~~~

Ahsoka huffs out a sigh, twisting through another series of maneuvers and decapitating a handful of clankers. Rex  _ shouldn’t be here, _ really, but he’s too kriffing  _ stubborn _ to go back. She can feel a hum of pain from him, and he’s a bit unfocused, distracted, though battle droids are easy to fight; he’s watching the way she moves, all grace and predatory certainty, and shooting clankers almost on autopilot, not even looking at them.

He’s  _ really _ distracted, she thinks, if he’s paying more attention to  _ her _ than to his surroundings.  _ Enjoying the view? _ she asks lightly, trying to cover up a twinge of worry (he’s hurting, he’s  _ in pain, _ she shouldn’t have let him come on this kriffing mission), and she flips over the top of a squad of clankers, ignoring the squad leader’s shout of  _ hey, that’s not fair-- _ and slices them all in half in a fluid, easy series of movements. 

_ As a matter of fact, I am, _ Rex responds in the same tone, and then he projects a bit of calm.  _ Don’t worry, I’m fine. I know what I’m doing. _

_ If you reinjure yourself I’m going to kill you. _

_ Get in line, _ he says lightly, easily, and she huffs a little, because that’s not  _ fair. _ But then there’s no more droids in front of her--instead there’s a knot of orange-painted troopers, snapping salutes at her. “Commander Tano,” one of them says, a veteran she’s interacted with on the battlefield a few times, “can you do us all a favor and go kick the General’s ass into submission? He won’t get off the karking battlefield.”

Ahsoka sighs, because  _ really, _ she shouldn’t be surprised, it’s  _ Obi-Wan kriffing Kenobi, _ of course he won’t. “Where is he?”

Another trooper, she thinks his name is Flicker, gestures vaguely in one direction. “Over there somewhere. Commander Cody’s got him.”

If Cody’s there, at least Obi-Wan is somewhat  _ safe, _ she thinks.  _ Rex, get everyone out of the way and have Anakin call in the airstrike, I’m going to go check on Obi-Wan. _

_ Yes, sir, _ he sends back, sarcastically, and she rolls her eyes.

Obi-Wan is a  _ mess. _

He’s alive, and she doesn’t think he’s been injured any worse than he already was, but he’s clearly  _ exhausted _ and his face is almost grey and he’s leaning heavily on Cody’s shoulder. Which is  _ not good, _ if he’s letting Cody support that much of his weight he’s really not feeling good at all. “Ahsoka,” he says, smiles a little, though it’s really more of a grimace, “good job on the hangar--”

“Sit  _ down, _ Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka says sharply, because kriffing  _ seriously? _ “Master is calling in the airstrike now, and the  _ vod’e _ can handle the rest of the clankers. They don’t need you.”

“I’m quite alright, Ahsoka.”

Kriffing  _ bantha-shit. _ “Three weeks ago you were still in a  _ wheelchair,” _ she snaps. This is  _ ridiculous. _ At least she and Rex got  _ cleared _ for this mission--Obi-Wan is only here because he’d gotten enough Force-healing that Scratch couldn’t  _ technically _ refuse him, and he’d been adamant that his battalion wasn’t fighting without him. “I’ll comm Kix--”

Obi-Wan cuts her off with a heavy sigh and hands raised in surrender. “No, thank you,” he says wryly. “If I must be subjected to medical treatment, I’ll do it of my own free will,” and he offers her a dry smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

She does. Kix has started to get fond of using his strong Force-suggestion on the patients he deems  _ difficult, _ which  _ always _ includes her, Rex, and Anakin. And any Jedi. “You need to have Scratch look at you, then,” she says. He nods. She doesn’t trust him.

“I’ll take care of him, sirs,” an unfamiliar 212th trooper says, saluting sharply first at Ahsoka, then at Cody. “Come on, General.”

Obi-Wan makes a face, but he allows the trooper to drop his shoulder beneath his armpit, draping his arm around the trooper’s shoulders. It’s then that the distinctive ships of the 104th, now led by Master Gallia, soar overheard and fire upon the airbase.

Ahsoka grins.

Another successful raid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:** (you know the drill on some of them)
> 
>  _ge'hutuun(e):_ bandit, thief, petty criminal; here used as 'a serious criminal you have no respect for'
> 
>  _landuur:_ delicate, fragile; sometimes used as an insult
> 
>  _hut'uun:_ coward (worst possible insult)
> 
>  _ures'kot:_ without strength
> 
>  _Alor'ad:_ Captain
> 
>  _verd(e):_ soldier(s)
> 
>  _jetii'kad(e):_ lightsaber(s)
> 
>  _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum:_ I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. (daily remembrance of those who's died)
> 
>  _briikase:_ happy
> 
>  _k'uur:_ hush
> 
>  _ad(e):_ son(s)/daughter(s)/child(ren) (read as "child" when it's used as "this/the ad" and "son" when used possessively)
> 
>  _Hukaat'kama!:_ Watch my six!
> 
>  _shebs:_ backside, rear, ass
> 
>  _aru'e:_ enemy
> 
>  _baar'ur:_ medic


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! Here we are back again with a monster chapter in which everything is angsty. I so love angst, don't you? There will be Mando'a translations in the end note, as always.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated, altho at this point we're just having fun. ;)

Rex twists his lamp so it shines a little more directly on his work, setting aside his tools to get a better look at the mechanism of his DC’s trigger. The pistols are modified to have a faster, smoother firing action and almost no kick, but one of them isn’t working quite right. Rex is pretty sure the problem is the trigger’s connection to the firing mechanism, which means he’s spent the last half hour carefully dismantling it so he can fix it. It’s been a long time since he’s had to work on the modifications because these are  _ good _ blasters, not like those new, shoddy models. Phase Two standard-issue kit is mostly shit, in Rex’s opinion. The Republic had had enough money for more clones, it seems, but not to keep them in decent gear.

He’d ranted to Ahsoka about it once. She didn’t seem to get why he was so annoyed about Phase Two armor, if it  _ worked _ , but Phase Two armor is cheap and it needs replacing too often and it doesn’t keep its paint job as well.

Faint, dramatic sounds of blasterfire and a humming saber come from his bunk and he senses a familiar, delighted kind of amusement from Soka. “Are you watching that  _ again? _ ” he sighs, picking up a pair of tweezers and getting a few more pieces of the blaster’s housing out of his way. There’s a  _ really _ horrible holodrama (all holodramas are kriffing stupid, but this one is especially so) Soka likes watching, about Anakin and what are apparently his very exciting exploits. Rex had tried watching it with her once, but he’d tired of it very quickly. No one looked anything like themselves and no one even talked like real people talk - Fives had  _ loved _ the show and he had some lines from it he’d liked quoting to annoy Anakin. Rex swallows.

“Well, I don’t have anything better to do until you come to bed,” Soka grumbles at him, and he snorts, eyeing what appears to be the source of the problem in his blaster - a loose wire connected to a corroding plate.

“There are plenty of less stupid things you could be watching,” he retorts. “That kriffing holo is junk.”

“It’s funny!” Ahsoka protests, and he doesn’t have to look up from his work to know she’s rolling her eyes at him.

He doesn’t know  _ why _ she thinks it’s funny, why most of his men do, for that matter. It’s ridiculous. “I’m judging you, Soka. Out of all the holos you had to pick to like, you picked that one?”

“Shut up, I know it’s dumb,” she grumbles.

“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” he hums, levers off the corroded piece of the blaster and drops it on his desk, staring at it. He doesn’t think he has a replacement part for it, but he opens his drawer anyway and rifles through tools and parts and bandages trying to find it. No luck; it’s too specialized of a piece to leave lying in his drawer, probably. Which means he won’t be able to fix his blaster until he gets a new part; hopefully there’s some on the Resolute.  _ Kriff _ . “I can’t do anymore work on this tonight,” he sighs, organizing his tools and the dismantled pieces of the blaster so he doesn’t lose track of any of it and flipping off his lamp. “Turn that kriffing crap off and I’ll join you.”

He rolls his shoulders and tilts his head from side to side so his neck cracks, sees Ahsoka make an annoyed face at him but very deliberately shut off the datapad. “It was a good episode,” she complains as he gets up, pushes his chair up against the desk. “The one where Anakin saves the Senate Chambers from being blown up by a crazy Twi’lek whose mother got killed in a speeder crash with Senator Organa.”

Rex groans and marches over to the bed, tugs the datapad out of her hands. “What about that was supposed to sound  _ good _ ,  _ cyar’ika? _ ”

~~~

Ahsoka pouts, makes a face at him. “Killjoy,” she mumbles, but it’s  _ really kriffing hard _ to stay sulky when he crawls into the bunk with her and wraps his arms around her, tugging her head to nestle against his chest. “It had  _ Padme _ in it.”

Rex rests his chin between her montrals, hums a little. “Sounds embarrassing.”

She scoffs. “Padme likes to make fun of Hero With No Fear with me, too.” It drives Anakin  _ crazy. _ “Oh, I should show Elle, I bet she’d like all the explosions.”

_ “Ner’jetii, _ you’re  _ blue,” _ he says patiently, and she can’t help laughing.

_ At least they cast a Togruta and not a Twi’lek to play me, _ she thinks, feels his begrudging agreement.  _ How are you feeling? _

Rex shifts, runs his fingers in small circles over her back headtail, and she hums in pleasure, closing her eyes and leaning into the touch.  _ I’m fine. Kix isn’t--I think he almost had a heart attack. _

_ Well, _ she says, pulling back just enough to give him a mischievous look,  _ he  _ **_did_ ** _ tell you to stay off the front lines, and then you went and joined a strike team anyway. _

_ So kriffing Jak and Brii could go with you, but not me. _

Which is _not_ the same. At all. She rolls her eyes, says, _Neither of them almost died two months ago,_ which Rex responds to with an annoyed _hmph_ and a cessation in the rhythm of his fingers. She projects general displeasure with that fact, tilts her head back into his hand meaningfully. _Speaking of Jak,_ _did you see him take out those commando droids in the hangar?_

Rex rolls his eyes, starts moving his fingers again.  _ Yeah, I did. Kriffing hells. _

_ And  _ **_you_ ** _ called him  _ di’kut, she thinks smugly, smirks up at him.

“One kriffing time,” he growls out, pulls his arm from around her and tucks it under his head.  _ Maybe I’ll just go back to the barracks if that’s how you’re going to be. _

Ahsoka  _ glares, _ because that is  _ not fair. _ “Rex,” she whines, reaching for his arm--he moves it out of her reach and she  _ pouts. _ “Come  _ on, _ Rexter.” He raises an eyebrow at her, golden eyes glimmering with amusement, and she huffs.  _ “Fine, _ I’m  _ sorry.” _

_ No, you’re not, _ he hums, laughing silently, but he slips his arm back around her and tugs her close again; she settles comfortably against him, hooks one leg around one of his and just  _ breathes. _

_ I love you, _ she tells him, projects warmth and love at him.

_ I love you too,  _ ner’jetii.

~~~

His instincts are telling him something is  _ wrong _ . There’s an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach that just won’t go away, even though he’s scanned the mess some dozen times and found nothing amiss. Ahsoka is sitting next to him with a cup of caf and she hasn’t noticed anything, doesn’t even seem  _ anxious _ , which means the Force must say everything’s fine.

Still, Rex doesn’t  _ feel right _ .

The uneasy feeling just increases when Fives and Dogma come over and sit across from them, set their helmets on the table. “Hey,  _ vod _ ,” Fives says, and Rex shivers a little.  _ Not right, not right, not right _ .

He cannot answer. He tries, but no sound comes out, nothing - not even breath, not even air. He drops a hand to his chest, struggling, because suddenly he needs to  _ speak _ but his stomach burns and he  _ can't breathe _ .

Everything goes so  _ black _ , around the edges of his vision and slicking like oil over the floor. It's because he can't breathe, because he's choking and dying, and he scrambles at nothing, trying desperately for breath - feels something slimy and cloying seeping into his boots, clinging between his fingers and across his palms so he feels sick. Ahsoka is gone, Fives and Dogma are gone, and he slips in the dark, tries to stride forward, call their names, look for them, but it's nothing but dark and moist and cloying, choking.

_ I hope you can live with yourself. _

In the dark, he hears the sounds of battle and he runs towards them, automatically, although the stinking liquid has crept up over his knees, soaked through his blacks ( _ where is his armor? _ ), until suddenly he bursts into a space that's lit glowing red and pale, still  _ dark _ , and the ground is firmer, but still a wet, mouldy mess like the Felucian jungle.

They’re standing there, arms pulled behind them, Fives and Dogma, and the slimy black creeps up their legs and chests and arms, holding them still. Holding them still except for the agony on their faces and the trembling of their limbs as blaster bolts drive relentless into their chests in a sudden burst of blue light. But the dark doesn’t let them fall, and although they’re  _ choking _ they’re alive, so Rex  _ runs _ to them, tries to shout for Kix but once again he’s strangling, can’t make any sound come out, but at least he’s almost close enough to grab them, yank them free from the dark, and-

A hand curls around his throat, another around his arm, and he’s yanked to a halt, coughs and struggles, but fingers trace sickly-light over his cheek and crushing arms wrap around his waist, his ankle, and he should be able to break free but there’s no give to their grip and the fingers around his throat and jaw dig into his skin, hold him staring at his  _ vod’e _ as they shudder, heaving for breath, Dogma  _ crying _ , and he would be sick except the fingers around his neck don’t let him.

_ Please, please, no, oh kriff _ .

“This is what will happen to all of them, in the end, child,” and the voice is so fatherly and understanding but it’s also one he  _ knows _ , one he’d thought was  _ gone _ , and he heaves out a strangled, near-silent sob as the hand around his throat loosens just a fraction.

Fives’ eyes fall closed and he goes limp, the blackness around him slithering away as he collapses boneless to the ground; Dogma heaves a few more breaths and then his eyes roll back in his head, the dark retreating from him too, and Rex shouts and struggles until the grip of the hands and arms slips away and he doubles over, retches, chokes on the acrid scent of sick and burned flesh, and  _ runs _ . Grabs Fives’ head and drags it onto his lap, fumbles for a pulse, something, his other hand latching onto Dogma’s bracer and holding so tight the molded plastoid groans.

He couldn’t help them, he tried, and they’re lost and he’s failed them and how many  _ more _ , how often will he have to find himself here alone in the dark clinging for them to  _ come back _ when they never will, when it’s always just going to be him that’s left?  _ No more of them, please _ .

_ All of them, in the end _ .

~~~

Ahsoka’s jerked out of a sound sleep by raw  _ pain. _

For a moment, she thinks maybe she’s injured something, or Rex has reopened his stomach--that’s how much it  _ hurts, _ white-hot and burning and  _ empty, _ and it takes  _ too long _ to realize it’s all in her head. 

Except it’s not  _ her _ head.

She uncurls from where she’d fallen asleep, head on Rex’s chest, montrals pressed to his chest just over his heart, balancing herself on one elbow as she looks down at him. His face is creased with pain and grief, loss and a heavy, hopeless  _ despair _ thick and choking even through his shields, and she swallows. Reaches for his mind, because she  _ knows better _ than to try and shake his shoulder--she doesn’t want to end up in a headlock on the floor or something like that. His pain is sharp and bloody and desperate, cutting into her like shattered glass in her palms, and there’s a heavy darkness lying thick and cold and cruel over his thoughts, stifling him.

She projects light and love and  _ warmth, _ tries to soothe him awake gently, slowly--he’s  _ screaming _ somewhere under all the cotton-muffled black, where she can  _ barely _ hear him, barely feel him. It takes a moment before he  _ feels _ her, and when he does he startles,  _ grabs on _ tight and holds for a moment, and she drags him out of the awful cloying darkness and into the light.

He snaps awake, sharp and jerky, bolting upright (and it’s only her quick reflexes and instincts that get her out of the way); he’s panting in short gasps, eyes wide and unfocused, and clutched tight in his right fist is his vibroblade. For a moment, she thinks he might try and attack her, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings, and she reaches quickly for him again, tries to soothe him.  _ Easy, Rex, cyare, it’s just me, _ and then he  _ freezes _ like ice has settled around his veins, his bones, cold and crystalline and yet  _ brittle, _ ready to shatter with one wrong motion.

Ahsoka reaches out with one hand, tentative, because she  _ really _ wants him to drop the vibroblade before he accidentally stabs something with it. He’s tenser than she’s ever felt when she lightly lays her hand on his shoulder, every muscle  _ locked _ like he’s about to flee, or to fight, and when her hand touches him he  _ flinches, _ jerks away almost instinctively and twists the hand with the vibroblade towards her like he’s going to fight, and it’s  _ instinct _ to pull on the Force and say,  _ “Calm down, _ Rex, it’s just me, it’s Soka, please?”

~~~

Rex wants to be  _ sick, _ still, and the dark room is too small and for a moment he thinks he still smells death and wet earth, and his instinct says  _ don’t let your guard down _ . But Ahsoka is still holding her hand out to him, like she wants to touch him again but is afraid to, and she’d touched his shoulder so she’s actually  _ here _ , and when she tells him to calm down, some of the tightness bleeds out of his muscles, leaving him shaky. He twists the vibroblade so the tip points at him, sets it carefully next to him on the bunk and takes a deep, fortifying breath. “Sorry,” he says, wishes he sounded less exhausted. He pushes the blankets away from his legs because he still feels something slimy and choking on his skin. It’s easier to keep his breaths short, shallow, controlled; to choke back nausea and grief that both rise hot in the back of his throat.

“It’s okay,” she says, settles her hand on his shoulder. She’s going to ask him what happened and Rex just wants to lay back down, go back to sleep before he can’t- can’t keep it locked up like this. His throat burns and he swallows reflexively, nods. She scoots a little closer to him and Rex tries for at least half a smile. It doesn’t  _ work _ . “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, softly, and that makes his throat tighten, something approaching a laugh trying to struggle free; he suppresses it.

“No. Thank you though.”

Fives stares at him from behind Ahsoka like he’s disappointed, lost, and Rex rubs his eyes and swallows again. The warm darkness of the room (which at least smells clean now) presses on him more than normal, keeps him trapped with the grief. Looking at Ahsoka helps, except it makes everything raging under his skin want to break through, and he won’t let it, not tonight.

_ (He keeps saying there will be time later, and there will.  _ Now _ is not the time to think about it.) _

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t believe Rex one bit. 

He’s staring at her like she’s the only steady thing in the room, like the world is whirling a dizzying dance around the two of them, and she’s the unconscious centerpoint, but even as she watches he takes a ragged breath, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. The golden irises are jagged-edged, cracked with grief and horror, and she drops her hand from his shoulder, slides her palm lightly down his arm to tangle her fingers with his. His other hand is still a tight fist, and she reaches, gently soothes it open, rubs her thumb in soft circles over his knuckles. He clings to her like a lifeline in a storm, and she reaches for his mind, lightly nudges at his shields.

For a moment, he almost gives, but then she feels him tense again, and she  _ frowns, _ because this isn’t  _ good, _ isn’t  _ healthy-- _ but his strict control over his emotions, over his pain, is failing and so she prods at the cracks.  _ Let it go, cyare, you need to let it out. _

He shakes his head, pulls back from the bond some, but the cracks are spreading faster now and she lets go of his hands to tug him against her, one hand bringing his head to rest against her shoulder. He lets out a soft breath and crumples into her, like the strength has just drained out of his veins, like a puppet with its strings cut, and she carefully, softly reaches for his mind again.  _ Please, Rex? _

~~~

Rex  _ does not want to think _ , he wants to  _ sleep _ and work on his blasters and clean his kit and  _ not do this _ . Ahsoka curls her hand over the back of his neck, holds him close, and she won’t stop  _ pushing _ . He doesn’t have the energy to be angry, can’t  _ focus _ well enough to hold his shields up, but it feels like a durasteel grip has locked around his throat again, choking back sound and words.

_ They choke and struggle in front of him, and he can’t get to them, it’s not  _ **_enough,_ ** _ and they both fall so easily _ .

So they’re dead. Rex knows that. He’s lost enough, it’s hard, but he keeps going because it’s war. He remembers enough, he’s grieved enough, and that will serve. He doesn’t need to wallow in all of it, he doesn’t have space for self-pity.

Fives still stares at him over Ahsoka’s shoulder, confused and alone.

Rex’s chest aches and he fits his arms around her waist, presses his face into the curve of her shoulder and just tries to breathe. He just has to forget the nightmare and control his breathing and then he can convince her, can go back to sleep, he… he is  _ tired _ .

Tired and drowning and his head is full of images and black oil and they’re still gone and they’re going to  _ be _ gone, and he doesn’t mean to but he twists his hand tight in Ahsoka’s sleep shirt, tries to ignore her needling at his shields, breathes out shakily.

He’s so tired of losing them, of all the training and the modifications and the fighting not being  _ enough _ , of being the  _ unkillable _ clone, the one left when all the fighting is done. Tired of pretending he has any idea what this all means anymore, because he doesn’t, he doesn’t  _ know _ . Fives and Dogma are… dead, they’re dead, for no  _ reason _ , and they shouldn’t be.

He doesn’t  _ want  _ them to be, he wants them back, he wants Dogma to try, mildly, to scold him for ignoring a minor reg, he wants Fives to laugh at him for his blunder with Jak Ordo. He wants them. They’re his  _ vod’e _ , they’re not supposed to-

And it chokes him, how much it hurts, how it makes his eyes burn and his chest tighten, because nothing has helped. Not the tattoos or the attempts at remembrance or pretending he doesn’t have  _ time _ . They’re still  _ gone _ and it still means nothing and he doesn’t want it that way. It’s true his  _ vod’e _ were made to die and it’s true they’re at war but that doesn’t kriffing change anything.

He still just wants them to come  _ back _ .

He doesn’t have excuses left for why it’s  _ fine _ , because it kriffing isn’t - he’s been fighting since he could walk, watching his  _ vod’e _ die since his first real battle, pushing and pushing and killing and talking about duty and he remembers Fives asking him, “Do you really believe that? Or is that what they engineered you to think?” and he hardly  _ knows _ .

Somehow he’s always convinced himself he hasn’t lost so much, has called it a fair price, but it’s  _ not _ . It’s not kriffing fair that his brothers are always the ones who fall first and oftenest and it’s not right and it has hurt him every time but there was no more space to remember them all than there was to list all the names on his skin.

He senses Ahsoka still wants him to talk but it feels like there’s nothing to say. He’s just  _ heavy _ and exhausted.  _ I’m just…  _ He tries for something, because he knows better than to just be silent, but it all feels thick and stifled and worn out.  _ I wish they weren’t gone _ .

~~~

_ Me too, _ Ahsoka hums, leans her head against the top of his, and with her free hand she finds the hand he’s got twisted into her shirt and threads her fingers through his, squeezing. He clutches her hand, clings to her, and she swallows hard. Projects gentle love and soothing warmth and  _ understanding _ and hopes that helps, hopes that does  _ something, _ because he just feels tired and weary and  _ worn, _ faded, like some of Obi-Wan’s older robes.

He doesn’t say anything, and she can feel he doesn’t really think there’s anything to say; some of his shields have fallen beneath her persistent prying, and she tries to help dispel some of the dark, the cold, the ice. It doesn’t really  _ work, _ and she closes her eyes and sucks in a sharp breath because she  _ doesn’t know what to do _ but she can feel he needs  _ something _ and all his heaviness is weighing down on her like mountains, making it hard to breathe.  _ Me too, Rexter. _

She  _ misses _ Fives and Dogma, even more than the rest of her men that’d died during the Senate disaster; they’re her  _ squad, _ she’s fought with them for years and it  _ hurts _ that they’re gone. It  _ hurts _ that Dogma isn’t here to gently chide her for ignoring Kix or breaking regs (not that she really  _ has _ to listen to regs anymore, he’d still reprimanded her for it), that Fives isn’t here to make bets and watch the stupid kriffing Hero With No Fear holos and annoy the kriff out of Anakin and complain about her and Rex’s timing always being  _ atrocious. _

(A part of her suddenly remembers,  _ hey, if I make a bet with Fives about when you guys will say the vows for real, will you tell me so I can win? _ and she can’t quite shield the flash of  _ sorrow _ at the realization that Fives won’t  _ be there, _ he won’t complain about how their timing is atrocious as usual and how he’s losing the bet to  _ kriffing Kix and Tup.) _

~~~

Rex hardly feels able to pay attention to Ahsoka’s thoughts, but he still catches the drift of them, how she feels a sudden spike of loss and he gets an impression of an empty space where someone should be standing, of things that will never get to be said, and it sends a spike of pain through his thoughts, twists his stomach tight into a knot. He holds tighter to her hand and struggles through the heaviness enough to send her a soft thread of understanding, at least.

Too many lost moments. He’s had enough.

He sighs, traces his fingers over her headtail and leans in, kisses her. (She feels confused, and unhappy, but he can’t summon the energy to  _ care _ .) “I just need rest,” he says, quietly, because maybe if he goes to sleep it’ll all make more sense when he wakes up. He untangles his fingers from hers, barely notices her mental protests, lies down with his back to her, facing the room, and slides his shaking hand under the pillow. He’s too tired, he can’t deal with this, so he reaches clumsily for the blankets again and tugs them over himself, projects a plea for Ahsoka to just lay down. He’s trembling and he doesn’t know if the tension will go away enough for him to sleep but he needs to, needs to just get  _ away _ .

Ahsoka takes a moment, but then he feels her settle behind him, slip her arm around his chest and press her face into the back of his neck.

He shivers and curls up a little, clenching his fingers in the blanket. It’s too hard to relax but he tries anyway, forces his breaths to slow, although deep breaths are a struggle, like something’s pressing on him. There’s a tension in his thoughts, too, that he thinks is from trying to hold up shields that aren’t there. He just needs sleep. He lifts one hand to Ahsoka’s arm around him, takes her hand, breathes.

He lets go of his shields, stops trying to rebuild them or maintain them, feels some of the wary tightness bleed out of him and he sinks into the mattress, pulls the blanket tighter around himself and feels the softness of the bunk and his pillow, and Ahsoka is behind him and he’s safe, so  _ finally _ the tension coiled around his lungs eases, cracks, lets go.

Rex can  _ breathe _ .

And the grief is soft, too, when it comes, and he’s too tired to fight the tears that cloud his vision, can’t find the strength to stifle the silent sob that shakes out of him. More follow, thick and fast, and they’re just as quiet, hurt his chest, and he just feels weak and exhausted and it’s too much effort to hold Ahsoka’s hand, but she keeps a hold of his fingers when his own loosen.

He sinks further into the mattress, wishes he could stop himself shaking.

~~~

Ahsoka almost doesn’t realize when Rex first starts crying; she’s  _ never _ seen him cry before, and his sobs are just… silent, shaking his shoulders almost like he’s  _ laughing, _ and he hides his face in the pillow a bit, his grip on her hand slackening. She swallows  _ hard, _ tightens her hold on his fingers, presses closer to him. 

She’s not sure exactly what to  _ do, _ what to say, so she doesn’t say  _ anything; _ she just curls up around him, traces patterns on the back of his hand, hums tunelessly and projects a constant, steady stream of love and calm and nonsense phrases.  _ It’s okay, I’m here, we’re safe, _ she thinks, knows the words don’t really  _ mean _ anything, but she thinks her voice is more important than what she’s actually  _ saying. I love you, Rex, I’m right here, I’ve got you, cyare. _

He curls up on himself, makes himself smaller, and she tightens her arms around him, presses her face against the back of his neck like if she just  _ willed _ it more she could share his skin--but she doesn’t think it’s possible for her to get any closer than she already is, and so she just breathes out, quiet and careful, feels a couple tears slip down her own cheeks, because he  _ hurts _ and she just wants to make him  _ feel better _ and she doesn’t know what to  _ do. _

_ It’ll be okay, Rex, I promise. _

~~~

Rex tries, he really tries, to hang onto her talking, and it helps a little, but he’s spent so long dreading this, dreading the moment he had to  _ feel _ , that now that it’s here he can’t do anything  _ else _ . He focuses on the feel of his hand in hers and the reassuring projections between flashes of Fives’ agonized eyes and the sound of Dogma’s body hitting the floor and the inevitability of loss, of the injustice of it.

At some point he decides leaving his back to her only makes it worse so he shifts, rolls to his other side and fits both arms around Soka, curls around her and clings too tight. He has to just weather this, has to just get through it, have done with it, go to sleep.

He’s not sure he can. Loss grips like a vise now that he’s let it out, despair, the knowledge that he  _ can’t do this _ . No more of these losses, no more of  _ this _ . Ahsoka cups her hand over his cheek and presses closer against his thoughts, too, projecting love, and he has enough sense to hang onto that. It helps him not feel so much like the darkness is smothering, like he’s going to be left alone at the end of all of it, like it’s all kriffing  _ pointless _ .

_ Soka _ , he thinks, kisses her montrals, tucks her tighter to his chest because that helps a little too.

Just weather it, just have done with it, just kriffing let it go. The sobs shake him enough now that it hurts his wound, but he doesn’t try to stifle them.

(Some part of him thinks his  _ vod’e _ have long deserved this from him, real grief, but he doesn’t know what he believes.)

~~~

_ You won’t be alone, _ Ahsoka promises, soft and certain, the Force ringing true with the strength of her conviction.  _ I’m never leaving you, Rex. I promise. _ That’s not enough, and she  _ knows _ it, but at least it’s something, and she keeps talking, telling him she’s sorry, meaningless promises she can’t ever hope to keep, whispering words as a way out, a light to lead him home through the darkness. He clings to her, his shields falling one by one as he finally lets his grief  _ out, _ and she curls into him, savors his closeness.

She has no idea how long it is before his sobs finally begin to subside, before she senses his exhaustion finally overcoming his grief, but she thinks finally it might be alright to try and talk.  _ It wasn’t your fault, Rex. _

_ I’m their Captain, _ he tells her, soft and low and heavy with guilty sorrow.  _ I’m supposed to protect them. _

She understands what he feels--it’s hard not to blame herself for every trooper in 501st blue that falls under her command.  _ But sometimes we  _ **_can’t,_ ** _ Rex, and that’s okay. It has to be. _

~~~

_ Why though? _ Rex finds anger somewhere in his exhaustion and lets it burn a little, although it's weak.  _ It shouldn't have to be okay, Soka, I shouldn't have to watch so many of them die. _ Someone has to fight this war, he knows that, but that doesn't make it  _ better _ or right. He's always been the trooper he's supposed to be, always said they have to do their  _ duty _ . How often has he just led his men into more death because it's what they  _ have _ to do?

_ I know _ , she thinks, and he senses she does.  _ But it's how it has to be until the war is over _ . Which he knows, but it makes him feel  _ sick _ and he hates it.

_ I don't want it to be like this anymore, _ he says wearily. Always reconciling himself to losing something so that he doesn't hurt so much when he does, except it  _ always _ burns and he can't accept anymore of it. Even when everything has been happiest, there's been grief and dread waiting to come back, to remind him there is always more to lose.  _ I'm so tired. _

~~~

_ I know, _ and that’s the worst part, Ahsoka thinks: she  _ does _ know. And while there’s a part of her that loves the battle, that craves the adrenaline rush of a fight, the way the world narrows to herself and her ‘sabers and the Force and a fierce joy surging through her veins, as much as the clones do (some things are too inherently Mandalorian to be edited out of their DNA), that part has been growing smaller and smaller lately. With every victory there just comes more  _ loss, _ and in defeat that just grows heavier, harder.

Just a couple standard weeks ago, the HoloNet had  _ exploded _ after a video had been uploaded directly from the HUD of a clone trooper so shiny he didn’t even have a name, just went by ‘47. The video had, in shaking high-res, recorded the destruction of an entire battalion in just under five Standard minutes--after the revelation of some kind of new Seppie tech--and had caught on camera the death of its two Jedi Generals, Masters Tiplee and Tiplar. The last words ‘47 had said were  _ tell the Jedi Council we’ve failed-- _ and then the screen had gone black, the audio cutting out.

An  _ entire battalion. _

Two Jedi Masters.

Under five minutes.

And for what? For a Republic that is as corrupt as it once was just? For a cause she can’t even  _ remember, _ one that was propogated by the  _ Sith? _ Ahsoka swallows, curling close to Rex’s mind.  _ I want the war to be over too. I want to go  _ **_home._ ** (Except she’s not really sure where home  _ is, _ anymore.)

She picks up on a stray thought from Rex, about how the  _ vod’e _ don’t have a home to go back to, how they weren’t really meant to survive the war; his thoughts are conflicted and torn up. He  _ wants _ the war to be over, but he doesn’t know what will happen  _ after, _ to him and to his men.

_ That’s what we’ll do, then, _ she promises.  _ We’ll find a planet and call it Yaim and bring our  _ vod’e _ home, and we’ll make the Senate accept you, and the Jedi will help, because they owe you. _

~~~

It's a nice thought, a soft enough one that Rex latches onto it and projects agreement, even though part of him insists, harshly, that it won't be that simple. He remembers the dreams he'd clung to on Kadavo and tentatively pushes them against Ahsoka’s mind, vague images that he's slowly made more concrete since then, in the rare moments when he lets himself have hope for  _ after _ . There's a house, a small one, with a sturdy door and a few big windows, there's cups of caf in the morning and knowing his  _ vod’e  _ are working nearby, having good work to do himself, there's a kind of peace and learning to tolerate all the weird things civvies are supposed to do. Everything is soft, Ahsoka plants flowers, he keeps his blasters clean and close but doesn't need them, she does saber forms outside in the sunlight but not because she  _ has _ to.

They are not dreams he allows himself to think about, because then it starts to hurt, then the war feels too long, but now it already all feels heavy and it feels right to show her.  _ I'd like that _ , he says, knows he still sounds despairing, but he doesn't try to change that. He's too tired. He starts running his hand up and down the length of her spine, the rhythmic motions soothing, pushing him into at least a more steady pattern of thought, if not exactly a calmer one.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t help a wistful smile at Rex’s dream, something soft and warm lodging itself like a stone in her throat, making it hard to breathe right. She catches a fleeting memory, of a clone deserter and a Twi’lek woman and children with tiny  _ lekku _ running around, and she smiles, hums a little, soft and soothing. To his dream images she adds the hum of training ‘sabers, the soft sounds of children playing, thinks  _ for the ones who don’t want to be Jedi. _ To show them there’s an option besides  _ Sith. _ Rex projects a tentative agreement, wonder, love, always love, curls closer to her.

In the dream, she steals his caf and laughs and tells him she’s going to help Tup and Kix and Brii work on the memorial today, and somehow she  _ knows _ the memorial is a building almost like a museum that holds  _ something _ for every lost  _ vod _ and Jedi, something from every battle (an old clanker head that sometimes turns on from Geonosis, one of those weird glowy plants from Umbara, a handful of dark dirt from Felucia), and this has the ring of  _ absolute truth _ to it, the feel of the future, a shrine to all the lost, memories bound in durasteel.  _ Ni partayli, gar darasuum. _ (They will remember, and their children, and their children’s children, that all the fallen of the Clone Wars will live on, that the galaxy might never forget.)

And tonight is a night for sharing, she thinks, for secret dreams and wishes one hardly dares to even  _ think, _ and so she shows Rex the desire she’s kept tightly clutched to her heart, afraid that he’d be scared away if he knew: a little girl with light orange skin and barely-there montrals, stubby headtails bouncing on her shoulders as she beams up with laughing golden eyes, stretching her arms up and saying  _ laam, buir, laam! _

~~~

There's one more line of the Mandalorian marriage vows, one Rex has always left out, one he thinks promises a future he and his  _ vod’e _ just don't look towards.  _ Mhi ba'juri verde _ .  _ We will raise warriors _ .

There’s so much  _ life _ in the dream Soka’s sharing with him, so much  _ newness _ , and he finds he  _ wants it _ although he's never really considered it before, somehow. He sighs and projects gratefulness that she showed him, hesitant agreement that he thinks that would be…  _ right _ .

Part of him says  _ what if it never happens _ , still deeper is the fear that he could  _ still lose her _ because he knows there is no promise of tomorrow for them, not until there's no more fighting, and he remembers the dark coming and the sound of battle and Ahsoka not being next to him anymore and it's  _ hard _ . He shouldn't dwell on it but tonight he doesn't have enough control not to. That's why he's dreaming, because if he imagines a future it helps him stop thinking he  _ won't have one _ .

He just wants to stop losing so much, he wants to feel like someday he'll actually have her and his men and his General and peace (even if he doesn't know whether he'll be able to  _ be _ a man of peace, doesn't know what he'll do without a war, he still  _ wants _ ).

~~~

Ahsoka _ knows _ she can't promise he'll never lose her; the simple fact of the matter is that as long as this war is going, she'll be repeatedly putting herself in situations where her life is at risk. Hells, she's almost died more times than she can _ count _ in the last three years, and so has Rex. There's no guarantee that either of them will survive this.

Except that the Force _ hums _ with certainty, and she'd _ seen _ the little girl (her daughter?) in a dream one night, with the sort of unfading clarity characteristic of visions. And she _ wants this, _ wants it enough to _ demand _ it of the Force, of the universe;  _ I have given enough, I have suffered enough, you will give me this, _ she thinks, and feels the Force _ sing _ in response.

_ I can't promise you I'll survive the war, _ she tells Rex quietly, pressing closer still to him.  _ But I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure we get this future. _

She's not sure that's _ enough, _ but she thinks it helps, because he presses his lips to her montrals again, breathes out, “I love you, Soka.”

_ I love you too, _ and she smiles a bit.  _ Leave your shields down and sleep, Rexter. I'll keep the nightmares away. _

~~~

Rex doesn’t have the energy to do more than shift closer to Ahsoka and ease his thoughts against hers. Closing his eyes makes him remember the nightmare, and it takes some effort to push it down, dismiss it, and it’s hard not to pull his shields back up. But she says she’ll make sure he doesn’t have nightmares, and he so wants to sleep, so he leaves the shields  _ down _ and lets out a long sigh.

He hopes when he wakes up this will be better, but at least he knows, is certain, that when he wakes up Ahsoka will be  _ here _ .

_ Thank you, _ he hums, means thank you for all of it, for trying to help, for being close. Soka’s hand smoothes in small, sleepy circles over his back and she projects love and an instruction to  _ sleep _ . He hardly needs it, because weariness presses down on him with a tangible, not-quite-unpleasant weight, and he drifts, hanging onto her mind so he doesn’t feel afraid. She’s still projecting soothing phrases at him in the back of his mind when he finally falls asleep again.

~~~

The Council’s comm comes at about three a.m., ship time, jerking Anakin out of the first sound sleep without Padme he’s had in  _ weeks, _ and he swears irritably, fumbling for the small holoprojector on the table by his bed. “What the kriff do you  _ want-- _ oh. Master Windu.” Kriff, kriff,  _ kriff. _ The Council, of  _ course _ it’s the Council, at the absolute  _ worst time. _

“Skywalker,” Windu says dryly. “I take it you’re not a morning person?”

Not kriffing  _ funny. _ “It’s  _ three in the morning, _ Windu, and I just kriffing got off Felucia,  _ no I’m not a morning person!” _

Windu shakes his head, looking annoyed, and also vaguely amused, and  _ far _ too put-together. “Pull it together, Skywalker. We’ve got a lead on Grievous’ location. We’ve tracked him to Utapau, though we aren’t sure where on the planet he is. Get yourself and Kenobi there before he escapes again.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbles. “Can I at least sleep until a slightly more reasonable hour first?”

Windu purses his lips, says, “You can sleep in hyperspace, Skywalker. Get  _ moving.” _

And the holo winks out.

Anakin  _ groans, _ flops back down onto his bunk, and reaches reluctantly for his wristcomm. “Yularen, this is Skywalker.” The Admiral is on the bridge right now, or should be anyway, keeping an eye on everything in case of an emergency.

There’s a long pause, and then Yularen’s voice crackles irritably over the comm.  _ “What do you need, General?” _

“Council commed. Grievous’s been tracked to Utapau, we’re going after him, with Obi-Wan. Set a course for the system, make sure the 212th is with us, and comm me when we’re two hours out.”

_ “What are you going to do?” _ Yularen’s voice is as polite and calm as ever, but there’s a bit of a questioning edge that has Anakin huffing a sigh.

“Go the kriff to  _ sleep,” _ he snaps, and then flops back with a sigh, closes his eyes. Kriff the kriffing Council, kriff Grievous, kriff Windu in particular. He’s pretty sure Windu  _ knows _ shiptime on the  _ Resolute, _ has it memorized or something, because he  _ always _ kriffing comms after midnight. The Jedi Master must take some perverse, twisted  _ enjoyment _ from making Anakin suffer by interrupting his sleep.

Kriffing Windu.

Anakin falls asleep again with his mind spinning with ideas for programming a droid to wake Windu up every hour post-midnight, randomly, for the rest of his life. (The idea is very satisfying.)

~~~

Rex is very grateful for his helmet hiding his face from view today; he thinks anyone who looks at him would be able to see how tired he is (especially his  _ vod’e _ \- there are disadvantages to sharing a face with millions of other people). Ahsoka somehow doesn’t look tired at all, and he envies her, which she seems to find vaguely amusing.

He’d gotten up earlier than he should have, probably, before Anakin even roused the rest of the battalion, and gone to look for a replacement part for the corroded plate in his blaster - he’s had no luck, which means he’s had to temporarily replace his dependable, well-balanced, modified DC with a regular one he found in the armory. Its balance isn’t the same as his other, which isn’t ideal, but it’s better than fighting with only one blaster.

“We’re going to have to handle this carefully,” his General is saying, firmly, looking tired himself. It’s too  _ early _ , only 0500 or so. “If the general gets wind of our being on Utapau before we get a fix on his location, he’ll be gone before we can get to him and it’ll be another month before we find him again. We’re taking transports down, just a few squads until we know where he is.”

General Kenobi, over the holocomm, nods and crosses his arms. Rex doesn’t think Kenobi should be allowed to fight, but it’s not up to him. Most things aren’t, for that matter. “Think of this as a scouting mission,” he says, collected as ever. “We’re here to find Grievous first, then we’ll deal with what follows.”

Rex glances at Bo-Katan Kryze, standing next to Jak and looking  _ almost _ uninterested. The Death Watch had fought well on Felucia, but Rex still isn’t comfortable with this, with them being in on their planning. He knows this is supposed to be an equal alliance, but still, it feels like a threat. It would be easy for this kind of mission to go wrong, easy to  _ make _ it go wrong, and he wishes he knew it would just be his men. But that’s not how things work anymore. Which might be good, but for now it’s difficult.

~~~

Anakin sends Ahsoka with the newly-christened Domino squad, of course (she doesn’t go anywhere without them on her six, these days, and she seldom lets them on missions without her there to watch  _ their _ six), and with her and Rex he sends Jak, Elle, and four other Mandalorians. Assuming the  _ mando’ade _ stay loyal (which she can’t help doubting), their squad is pretty well-off; she’s seen Jak and Elle fight, and most of the Mandalorian warriors are pretty good as well.

So Ahsoka isn’t entirely sure what’s causing the thrill of anxiety in her stomach, the twist of nerves she can’t seem to settle. The Force isn’t giving her any answers--in fact, when she reaches for it, for its calm, all she can feel is more of the same  _ something’s wrong here _ that she can’t stop hearing whispered in the back of her mind.

_ Something’s wrong here. _

Jak and Elle have their helmets off, standing close together in the back of the transport, talking in low voices. Every now and then, she catches a few of the Mando’a words, but not enough to  _ understand. _ From what she can see, though, Jak looks almost  _ worried, _ his hands clenching around his blasters, and Elle is being very careful to stay a certain distance away from him, her movements slow and telegraphed

No, worried is the wrong word, she thinks; Jak looks  _ frozen, _ has since Anakin had said they were en route to Utapau.

This is  _ supposed _ to be a simple scouting mission, but something in her can’t agree.  _ Something’s wrong here. _ She reaches for Rex, shivers a little, wondering if he feels the same strange  _ foreboding _ hanging heavy in the air.

~~~

Rex frowns when Ahsoka projects a little of her feelings towards him, a certain  _ wrongness _ that he's familiar with - but does not feel today. He trusts her instincts and what she says she hears from the Force, though, which means he needs to be worried.

_ We'll deal with whatever that is when it comes _ , he thinks. He follows a trail of thought and looks over at Jak Ordo, and the veteran’s tight expression does seem like cause for concern.

_ I know _ . Ahsoka still feels unsettled, so Rex presses closer to her thoughts so he can pay attention to the sense of  _ not right _ . If his own instincts aren't telling him anything, he'll share hers.

With a sigh, Rex pushes the feeling to the back of his mind where he can still pay attention to it, and grabs the overhead straps to hang onto as the transport engines start with a low hum.

Scouting is safe, scouting means unless things go wrong most of his  _ vod’e  _ will be alright. Granted, he doesn't really have the patience for sneaking around and waiting for something to happen, like he's a Jedi watching a tree grow, but today something safer is better.

~~~

The transport lands lightly on a ledge in the sinkhole they've been assigned to recon, and Ahsoka hesitates before following her squad out. Something, that little voice whispering _ wrong, wrong, wrong _ at her, tells her they should get back on the transport and leave this sinkhole.  _ There's nothing to see here. _

But that feels too much like Sidious’ web, his low murmuring voice telling her to  _ look away, there's nothing important here, _ and she pushes it away. She can't afford to be letting old memories like that distract her, not today. This is _ important. _

They form up in a basic scouting formation, Ahsoka in the lead like always, Rex to her right and just behind her, despite Kix’s protests. The tunnels are narrow, almost claustrophobic, which _ shouldn't _ mean anything, but the _ mando'ade _ have formed up almost _ protectively _ around Jak on Elle’s signal, though they're staying a careful distance away from him, and _ something's wrong here, _ and she doesn't _ like _ this.

But Rex doesn't feel anything, which means she's overreacting--or the Force is trying to tell her something, which isn't good.

She signals to Kix. He comes up next to her with a frown, and in a low voice, she asks, “What's the Force telling you?”

Kix _ shivers. _ “Something's wrong here,” he says, his words an uncanny echo of her own thoughts, and Ahsoka swallows.

This isn't good.

~~~

Rex has never liked dark, enclosed spaces, and this is no different. Even with his men watching his back, he doesn’t like not being able to  _ see _ everything, and it’s worse because he knows that if it comes to a fight here, they won’t be the ones with the advantage - hells, they’d likely be slaughtered. But they’re scanning for energy signatures and Ahsoka and Kix are here and so far there hasn’t even been a whisper from other sentients or a shout from droids. He keeps his footsteps slow, light, heel to toe so he’s near-silent; his men all do the same, and the  _ mando’ade _ had followed suit when they realized how easily and loudly everything  _ echoed _ here.

Ahsoka has felt more and more anxious the deeper they get into the tunnels, and Rex doesn’t  _ like it _ \- when he hears Kix softly agree that  _ something is wrong _ he shivers. If the two Force-sensitives in their group say something isn’t right, then it’s  _ not _ . They should pull back and regroup, come at this again later or not at all, send droids or get better scanners. “Commander,” he says quietly, “if you’re feeling this isn’t right, we should reconsider our approach. We could be walking straight into a massacre.”

Ahsoka turns her head, gives him a tight smile. “I think there’s something important here,” she says, and Rex wants to swear, a little, because that means they have to  _ stay _ , but last time the Force told Ahsoka there was something important, they’d discovered Order Sixty-Six, and it had been a disaster, and he’d almost lost both her and Kix. But they’d also been able to save many of their  _ vod’e _ and the Jedi, so Rex falls back a little and grits his teeth.

He wishes someone would tell the Force to stop interfering with  _ regular common sense _ , teach it some battle strategies, like  _ not marching into danger _ . If the Force is going to tell them there’s danger, it should at  _ least _ have the decency not to tell them to run headlong into it. But what does he know?

_ Rex, for kriff’s sake, _ Ahsoka thinks, partly amused, partly annoyed.  _ The will of the Force is important. _

He knows that, has even felt it, a little, but he thinks the will of the Force is too dramatic and should just  _ kriff off  _ sometimes.  _ Why can’t we just pull back and regroup, maybe come back with more troopers? _

He feels Ahsoka hesitate, and she stops, automatically holding up a hand to forestall their squad. He thinks she’s listening, trying to figure out what she should do, and if he tries to nudge her thoughts a little toward retreat, who could blame him?

_ Sometimes your sense of self-preservation is utter shit, Soka _ , he grumbles.

_ Shut  _ **_up,_ ** _ Rexter. _

“What the kriff is going on?” a very familiar voice says, Crys  _ again _ .

Rex sighs and turns. “We’re deciding how to proceed,  _ verd _ . The Commander thinks something’s off.”

“Is that  _ all? _ ” Crys snorts, and Rex frowns because normally he thinks Jak would have cut Crys off by now, but Jak doesn’t look so focused.

“Yes, that’s  _ all _ ,” Rex growls, impatiently. “Shut up and cool off, kid.”

Crys  _ hates _ being called kid, Rex has found. “So she’s nervous, who gives a shit? We have a  _ mission _ , right?”

Like Crys even  _ cares _ they have a mission. The  _ di’kut _ has little patience with campaigns that don’t directly benefit Mandalore, it seems. “When a Jedi thinks something’s off, kid, we listen. They’re usually right.” Then he turns back around so Crys knows he’s  _ done talking _ .

~~~

Rex is  _ done, _ but apparently Crys isn’t. “She might be a Jedi, but she’s a  _ child,” _ he says, irate and almost  _ superior. _ “Does she even know the difference between  _ something off _ and battle jitters?”

“I’ve been fighting this war for  _ three years,” _ Ahsoka snaps out through gritted teeth, wishing he’d just  _ shut up, _ because he’s too  _ loud _ in the narrow, echoing confines of the tunnel and she doesn’t  _ know _ what’s coming but  _ wrong, wrong, wrong _ the Force screams. “I know what I’m doing.”

Crys is saying something else, she’s not sure what, because she doesn’t  _ care, _ because--because there’s a Force-signature approaching, two of them, vaguely familiar though she’s not entirely sure  _ why. _ Crys’ voice turns even  _ more _ superior, something about how he  _ knew she wasn’t cut out for this, _ but she ignores him, holds up a hand.

He doesn’t stop talking.

“I don’t take orders from  _ jetii _ children,” and that’s  _ enough. _

Ahsoka  _ spins, _ grabs the Force, and snarls out,  _ “Be silent!” _

His mouth opens, closes, opens--no words emerge, and he looks almost  _ terrified. _ She can’t help a tiny grin, because he hadn’t expected a Force-suggestion that  _ powerful, _ and then she turns back and focuses.

“We’ve got two incoming sentients,” she says sharply, voice low. “Not sure if they’re friendlies or not, so stay sharp.”

And then there’s a horribly familiar  _ hissing _ noise, and she  _ freezes. _

No. No, no,  _ no, _ she can’t, she  _ can’t. _

~~~

Rex waves his hand in a small signal, raises his blasters and waits. He doesn’t know what to expect but two sentients is no problem for his squad, at least, shouldn’t be. He slides his boot back on the stone and finds firmer footing, shifts so his weight rests on his back leg.

He wishes he had Ahsoka’s sense of the Force, of where the sentients  _ are _ , because  _ waiting _ is not comfortable for him at the best of times.

Then there’s finally sound, something other than dark and the quiet conversations of his squad, a sign of  _ life _ , a crackling hum of electricity flaring to life and Rex  _ knows _ that sound, his whole self knows it before he even puts words to it, and he instinctively scrambles back, almost forgetting his blasters except their weight is a comfort in his hands and he yanks them  _ up _ , points them blindly in the direction of the sound, heart pounding.

Then there’s a  _ crack _ , and a shriek of pain, torn from a raw throat, and Rex goes tense, shaking, hard as stone because if he  _ doesn’t _ he’s going to  _ run _ . Ahsoka reaches out to him, clings  _ hard  _ to his thoughts, and he thinks he can’t breathe right but he hangs onto her, tightens his hand so much around his DCs that he almost pulls back their triggers.

_ We need to go, need to go  _ **_now._ **

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder and he whips around, jerks away, a harsh “ _ No _ ,” gritting out between clenched teeth. There are quiet confused and frightened sounds from the men around him and someone moves  _ toward  _ the screams and Rex grabs their arm because you don’t  _ do that _ , you stay back and you don’t get hurt and you kriffing  _ stay out of the way _ .

Stone grinds under his boots and his helmet feels stifling and he doesn’t quite know  _ what’s happening _ but his instincts say  _ get out _ . He just manages to stay put, though, because his men are here and he has to be with them, Ahsoka is here and she feels  _ terrified _ and she  _ needs  _ him.

Out of the dark, someone says something, and then the electricity stops, goes silent, and Rex should think that’s better but it’s  _ not _ because now he doesn’t even know where they are, isn’t sure, and he almost tugs his helmet off so he can breathe except his helmet means protection.

Then there’s a new spike of panic from Ahsoka and he reaches out, grabs her arm to drag her back, (except she twists away and he wants to be holding onto her,  _ needs her _ ) as a trio of figures emerge from a tunnel entrance ahead of them, freeze dead still on seeing them, and Rex can’t help a small, frightened sound, his legs threatening to give out on him except he won’t  _ let them _ . Sharp teeth, yellow eyes, narrow features slack with surprise, a clawed hand wrapped loosely, casually around a  _ whip _ and then Rex can’t stand still and he stumbles back with Ahsoka, almost  _ runs _ only someone grabs his shoulders and  _ stops him, _ holds him  _ still _ and he can’t, can’t, can’t  _ think _ , they need to  _ let go _ , gods, he doesn’t- he… They’re  _ here _ and the ground is hard under his boots and he can’t breathe and that hand is tightening around the whip and his neck  _ burns _ .

“Let go,” he snarls, thinks he sounds  _ terrified _ , “Kriffing let go, we need-”

“Captain!” The sharp tone startles him but it’s… right, he’s… He grabs the forearm of the person holding his shoulders and twists it free, but he doesn’t run. He needs to be here, because… what? It’s okay not to run but why?

He’s there, they’ll hurt him again and take Ahsoka and he-

No, no, he’s not… he’s not on Kadavo. There’s armor, and his blasters, and this… this is a  _ vod _ . That means safety, means his men are here, means… He pants, reaches up and yanks his helmet off, heaves for breath, and the  _ vod _ holding him pulls his own helmet off and it’s  _ Kix _ , oh  _ gods _ . “Hey, hey, easy,” and Rex projects something he hopes is close to reassurance, tries to force more awareness on her, of Kix and his face and the men surrounding them in a protective, tight formation and- and he can’t look at the Zygerrians, can’t do that, it’s not  _ safe _ .

~~~

Ahsoka can't _ breathe. _

Her hands go to her neck almost on autopilot, because she _ knows this sound, _ knows these faces, and there's _ pain _ and she can't breathe and Rex grabs her but she twists away (follows him in stumbling blindly back) because that's _ not allowed, _ no touching, you can't. All she can see is that  _ face, _ she knows that face, remembers  _ pain _ and  _ please don’t, master, _ and she thinks she might be whimpering, hopes she’s not screaming, but she can’t quite seem to  _ hear _ anything over the roaring in her montrals, the sound of screams and a shock whip hissing violently to life and pickaxes on stone and she can’t--she can’t--she has to  _ run, _ she has to get  _ away, _ they’ll hurt her and take Rex away and she can’t, she can’t, she  _ won’t lose him, _ not this time, she won’t  _ let this _ happen.

There’s hands on her upper arms, holding her still, keeping her from running, and she doesn’t  _ understand, _ jerks away, but the hands don’t  _ let go _ and she doesn’t understand because touching’s  _ not allowed, _ she doesn’t want the pain, doesn’t want to hurt, to feel it, not again, she doesn’t want Agruss and the shock collars and--and there’s a  _ voice, _ someone saying  _ udesii, jetii, _ a woman, she doesn’t know who or what or why or--

And then Rex is projecting--something, awareness, armor--Kix? But Kix isn't _ here, _ not if--not--she shakes her head, gasps in a desperate breath, something in her recognizing the paint on the armor in front of her as  _ Elle, _ the Mandalorian releasing her shoulders as soon as she sees recognition, backing away, and she shakes her head again, backs up a bit, reaches for Rex and grabs his pauldron to steady herself. This isn’t Kadavo, this is--this is Utapau, she’s here with her men, with her squad, scouting for--for Grievous, she’s not trapped, she has her ‘sabers and she has the Force and they  _ can’t hurt her _ anymore.

_ Something's wrong here. _

The Zygerrians haven't reacted yet, and it's sheer _ instinct _ to throw her hands out,  _ shove _ them off their feet, and then she spins and gasps out, “We're leaving,  _ now.” _

“Commander, the Force,” Kix starts, and she interrupts him,  _ hard. _

_ “Kriff the Force! _ We have to _ go, get out _ **_, now!”_ **

~~~

Rex tries to push past Kix, to obey his Commander and leave and get out like they  _ have to _ , and Kix moves out of the way but the  _ mando’ade  _ don’t, and he’s already shouting at them to kriffing  _ get moving _ before he registers one of them (Elle, her name’s Elle) in front of him, holding both hands out, staying well back from him. “Captain, we can’t.”

They  _ have to _ , kriff the mission, he’s not  _ staying here _ , not with them, not here, not ever, not  _ again _ . “Now,” he snarls, but she just steps back and doesn’t let him  _ past _ . He almost tries to fight his way past her except suddenly he manages to focus, see the other  _ mando’ade _ behind her, blocking off the tunnel as they try to stay away from Jak, who’s gone intensely, horribly still, staring past Rex and his battalion at the Zygerrians. He reminds Rex of a threatened predator, crowded back into a corner, just a breath away from lashing out in desperation. Rex twists, looks at the Zygerrians again, and they’re getting back to their feet, wary, and Rex’s men form a solid line between them and the slavers so… so Rex  _ breathes _ , forces himself to leave his helmet off, to not be sick, to stop trying to  _ run _ . He has to trust his men to protect him ( _ but he can’t let them be hurt, can’t let the slavers near them, if they hurt his men he’ll  _ crumble), because they can’t  _ leave _ until he knows they can do it without Jak losing it, and the focus of  _ something to do _ helps him pull back from all the memories, all the  _ screaming _ and the pain and  _ they won’t stop _ .

~~~

_ Rex, we have to _ **_go,_ ** Ahsoka thinks firmly, hands clutching at her sabers. They _ can't _ stay, they _ can't, _ the Zygerrians will hurt her men and Rex and her and she can't--

_ Look at Jak, _ Rex says, and she does.

And then she _ swears _ silently, because she recognizes that posture, the way his men are all backed away, but-- _ we have to, please, we can't stay! _

Before Rex can respond, one of the Zygerrians (the unfamiliar one) steps forward. “Well well well, what do we have here?” he asks, voice smooth and cultured.

“I know the two skugs in the middle,” one of the two collared ones says, smiles gleefully. “The Jedi _ screams.” _

She thinks she might be sick.

“Clones do too, if you shock them hard enough,” the other collared one agrees, smirks.

“Silence,” and the third one glares, and the two subside. “If the Republic has gotten wind of our location, we will have to relocate. The solution is simple: this scouting party cannot be allowed to report in again. Enslave them.” And then he presses a button on the haft of his whip, an alarm she thinks, and she can _ feel _ more signatures approaching at high speeds.

She grabs onto Rex, can't breathe, can't go back to this, and she ignites her sabers and says, “No, we  _ won't, _ you can't!”

~~~

Rex lifts his blasters and shoots, fast, but not steady, and his shots  _ miss _ ; then he hears Elle swear,  _ almost _ panicked and he turns, half-aware of his men falling back as pounding footsteps grind on stone and harsh voices echo through the tunnel. Something has  _ shifted _ , this is enough of a threat that Jak suddenly looks  _ panicked _ , and that’s dangerous, Rex sees it in the way he gathers himself, fists curling tighter, edging towards his blasters, and they need to  _ go  _ because there’re too many Zygerrians and Rex doesn’t want to fight because he thinks he’d be useless if he heard one of those whips again. (Fighting isn’t worth it, it just  _ hurts _ , and he can’t, won’t do it again, it’s not-)

_ Kriff _ . Rex does the only thing that makes sense, in that moment - he pushes Elle out of his way and strides forward, towards Jak, hears all the  _ mando’ade _ try to warn him, and he knows this is a risk but he also has to get them all  _ moving _ and Jak is going to fight and lash out and Jak probably doesn’t even know who’s with him, where he is. (Rex hardly does.)

Jak’s hands twitch over his blasters and Rex sets his own down on the hard ground, his helmet next to them, ignores the sounds of blasterfire as his  _ vod’e _ engage the Zygerrians. He can almost pretend this isn’t Kadavo, they aren’t Zygerrians (it’s  _ not  _ kriffing Kadavo, it’s Utapau, he needs to  _ focus _ ), and Jak is just a frightened, confused  _ vod _ .

The veteran seems to focus, just a little, because Rex can hear his breathing steady, and Elle says, “Kriffing  _ back off,  _ Captain, he’s going to  _ kill you _ .”

Rex doesn’t intend to let that happen.  _ Soka, tell the men not to let them through. _ She feels scared, and panicked, and it’s hard not to fall into that to but he has to  _ do this _ and then they can run and he can be as sick and horrified as he wants.  _ Come on, cyare, we’re okay. They can’t take us again _ .

Surely they can’t, not with his men here and all the  _ mando’ade _ and their weapons. He  _ knows _ that, that they have to be fine, that this is a battle they can win, it’s just…

He’s not doing this right now, right now if he doesn’t help Jak, Jak’s going to lose it and Rex has seen him fight now and he knows Elle speaks from experience, so he holds out his hands slightly in Jak’s direction, palms open.

Jak whips his blasters out and aims them both at Rex, convulsive, but he doesn’t shoot. Rex isn’t sure why he doesn’t, but he stops, holds still, posture as open as he can make it. “ _ Alor, udesii _ .  _ Gedet’ye _ .” Jak twitches a little at the Mando’a, but it seems to help, although his muscles do not loosen. “ _ An jate, vod, gar jate. _ ”

“ _ Nayc, _ ” Jak snarls, his voice mostly fear and panic and sharp-edged desperation. “ _ Ne shab'rud'ni _ .”

Rex takes a step back, nods. “Okay. Okay,  _ udesii _ . Sorry.” He keeps both his hands well within Jak’s limited scope of vision. “You have your blasters,  _ alor _ ,  _ ‘lek? _ So you can do this.”

There’s a pause, then Jak shakes his head and some of the tension  _ shifts _ . Rex gets ready to move if he must, and he feels Ahsoka say  _ we have to go, Rex, please, we need to leave, we’re so outnumbered _ and he pushes that away because right now he has to get Jak  _ focusing _ .

“That one knows me,” Jak growls out, in Basic that’s more accented and slurred than usual. Rex doesn’t know who Jak is referring to, except it’s probably one of the Zygerrians, and he understands. These creatures broke him, he’s sure they hurt Jak, and it’s too much to be here and see them and it might mean he’s  _ never been free _ but.

“Then we can kriffing  _ end him _ ,” Rex says, with a hatred thick and hot that he’d almost forgotten. “But you need to focus,  _ alor _ , and we need to go.  _ Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur _ .”

Jak lowers his blasters just a touch, nods. “ _ Gar serim _ ,” he says, voice heavy with a threat, and Rex isn’t so sure this is better, but this is Jak focused, at least, and he won’t kill his allies.

“ _ Jate, alor. Vor’e _ .”

Then Rex bends down to pick up his blasters and turns back to the fight, to his  _ vod’e _ , feeling his heartbeat begin to rush in his ears again, breaths not coming quite right. But at least he has his men, his weapons, at least he’s  _ protected _ , can protect too.

~~~

Once Rex _ finally _ gets Jak--not about to kill his allies, Ahsoka breathes out heavy relief and signals a retreat. She forces herself to stay at the back, deflecting bolts and protecting, even though she wants nothing more than to _ run, _ to hide, to cling to Rex and curl up in somewhere small and familiar and _ safe, _ where there are four walls around her and no one can sneak up on her.

Still, she holds the line, stays on her squad’s six, so they can get away, can get back to the transport. Even as her sabers tremble and she can't _ breathe _ and the Zygerrians are _ laughing _ and--

_ Come on, Soka, _ Rex calls, and she jumps into the transport, shouts for the pilot to take them up. They need to regroup, to come back with more men and more weapons and a _ plan. _

So she reaches for Anakin, though she knows she's interrupting a meeting between him and Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan.  _ Master, there's Zygerrians down here, a full settlement. _

Anakin is _ angry. _ Furious, in fact, and maybe this was a mistake.  _ Get back here, regroup, and we'll kriffing _ **_destroy_ ** _ them. _ Shields snap up, hard and fast enough to leave her reeling, and she grabs onto one of the handles and struggles to breathe.

_ Anakin is angry, Rex, _ she thinks slowly, winces a little.  _ Really angry. _

~~~

As the transport takes off and they’re no longer in deep danger, Rex’s memories sweep over him with the full force of a Kaminoan wave. He finds he doesn’t even have the strength to be angry, not if he wants to keep all the images  _ back _ , things he'd mostly learned to manage until now. He'd tried to  _ run _ , nearly left his men and his Jedi, and he knows no one can  _ blame  _ him but that doesn't make it easier to face that again, the utter  _ terror _ .

Rex thinks if Anakin gets to the Zygerrians, there will be nothing left of them. And the fear choking him and the nausea in his stomach say he wants that, wants this threat to be  _ gone _ , because he'd thought they were safe before and here the Zygerrians are again, those faces, the slaver who'd kept him from saving Soka, the sick  _ chakaar _ who’d ruined her headtails. He just wants them to be  _ safe _ .

_ Who cares, _ he thinks, doesn't quite mean it. (He pulls slivers of metal out her hands, trying to ignore the fact that he's  _ done trying _ . That they have him as sure as breathing.)  _ Let him kriffing end them, I don't give a shit. _

Ahsoka fits her free arm around him, rests her head against his pauldron, stepping into his mind and easing against his thoughts,  _ impossibly _ close, enough shields up that he can't see her memories, just knows they're there. She projects love, and he thinks she's trying to soothe him. He tries to do the same, but he doesn't _ feel right _ .

Kix is watching him, and Brii, too - when Kix sees him look at him, he smiles a little, salutes. It makes his stomach hurt.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t quite bring herself to lift her head from Rex’s shoulder until after the transport’s landed back in the belly of the  _ Resolute; _ even then, she can’t make herself look directly at anyone, keeps her eyes on the floor, on her feet, clings to Rex’s hand like a lifeline and doesn’t let go. She knows Rex is feeling much the same way she is, maybe more  _ angry _ than her--she’s mostly just  _ terrified, _ and tired of that, tired of the way panic flows like blood through her veins, like adrenaline, leaves her shaky and vague and unfocused and breathing too fast. 

Rex  _ tries _ to soothe her, but she knows this is as much a struggle for him as it is for her, and he can’t quite reassure her. Which is  _ okay, _ she understands, knows he’s trying the best he can. She returns the favor, wraps him in love, tries to help soothe away the worst of the memories, but it’s  _ hard _ and there’s so much  _ pain _ and she shivers, presses closer to him.

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Bo-Katan are waiting on the bridge; Anakin is pacing a path around the perimeter of the holotable, Bo-Katan is idly cleaning her blasters, and Obi-Wan looks to be meditating. The instant Domino squad troops in, a bit beat-up but mostly alright (she thinks maybe one or two have singed armor, but no real injuries), Anakin  _ spins _ around, eyes going wide. “Snips! What the  _ kriff,” _ he snaps, and he looks  _ murderous. _ “You can’t just tell me there are  _ slavers _ down there and then  _ cut me off, _ the hell--”

“Sorry, Skyguy,” she manages, wincing a little--she really  _ hadn’t _ meant to put her shields up, but… “You didn’t want to see,” and she thinks he understands because something like understanding flashes across his face.

_ Are you alright? _ he asks silently, and she shakes her head at him, slow and small and almost imperceptible.

_ No, I--I’m not. _

She presses closer to Rex, leans her head into his pauldron again, even though the hard plastoid isn’t the most comfortable, closes her eyes.  For a moment, there’s silence, and then:

“We should wipe them out.” 

It’s Elle, and her voice is the hardest Ahsoka’s ever heard, hard enough that Ahsoka shifts a little so she can look at the Mandalorian. Her eyes are hard and she’s, surprisingly enough, looking at Jak. Ahsoka follows her eyes to the older warrior, and she  _ understands. _

Because Jak is  _ frozen, _ still, so cold and calm, a laser-sharp focus in his one grey eye, and his hands are still steady on his blasters, and he--he almost looks like he’s ready to pull his blasters on  _ Anakin, _ at the slightest provocation. 

And that’s  _ not good. _

If Jak decides to--to attack, she doesn’t think they could  _ stop him. _ After all, he  _ knows _ how to kill Jedi,  _ has _ killed Jedi, won’t hesitate to do it again.

~~~

Jak keeps himself  _ still _ , because that is what he has learned, more than anything. Stillness is safety. Stillness is nonthreatening, a snake in the grass, perfectly harmless and submissive until time comes to strike, when they can’t fight. Stillness is readiness, good aim,  _ waiting _ , biding his time. And stillness is  _ being small _ , being unnoticed, head down and not lifting back up, not flinching, not fighting, just being; it is reacting no more than he must when the whip scores along his back, so the lash doesn’t destroy his muscles more than it has to; it is ignoring the way he burns and the others die so that he can survive; it is letting them do whatever they want because at the end of it  _ he survives _ . Stillness is sinking into barely more than a husk, barely more than motion, so that what little is left of him  _ does not break _ .

When the  _ Kyr’tsad  _ had freed him, freed him from a market here on Utapau, there had been no purchasing, no agreements, no haggling with his master. Pre Vizsla, Bo-Katan, Elle, and two others had found him and they’d broken him out, taken him with them. And he has no master now, but the Zygerrian who had bought him on Utapau… he is still alive, still knows him, still could claim him.

Jak will kill him, will make him look him in the eyes and suffer, choke him to death with his own whip. Like he wants to do to all of the pathetic life-forms who claimed to own him.

“We can’t do that,” Kenobi says, and Jak tightens his hands on his blasters, controls a scowl. Stillness. Not a threat, not a being. Just stone. He thinks Kenobi seems reluctant to say it, nonetheless. “They’re sentients, stranded out here.”

Let them be stranded.

_ (Jak’s legs are shaky today. He cannot walk, it’s simple, he can’t. His master drags him by the hair, flings him to the ground at the edge of the field, grinds a boot into his lacerated shin. Jak lets out a cry but does not move, does not plead. Enough reaction to appease the overseer, not so much that he feels how disgusting he is. “They told me you were a good worker. I'd hate for them to be wrong and have to dispose of you.”) _

“I don’t care,” Elle says, her anger smooth and steady, the kind not everyone knows to fear. But Jak knows, because that is his anger now. Certain. Still on edge - every time Skywalker moves, Jak wants to shoot him, because he is a  _ threat _ . Kenobi too, but Kenobi is  _ still _ . Easier to watch, easier to predict.

Jak wonders if his master  _ knew _ . He knows the  _ adiik _ and the  _ jetii _ were recognized (and that is a burning thing, too, another reason to  _ kill _ ), but he had his helmet and he thinks that means this time… this time he saw his enemy but his enemy didn’t see him. There is some relief in that, in knowing that he is ready to kill, ready to fight, and the Zygerrian has no idea what’s coming for him. A snake that blends into the dust can strike before it’s seen, and poison kills  _ fast _ .

So Jak can be still, can wait, can bide his time.  _ (Can keep his head down so he doesn’t get hurt.) _

~~~

Brii isn’t quite sure what to  _ do. _

The Captain and the Commander are curled close to each other, like they’re each using the other to stay standing, and they’d  _ panicked, _ an awful thing, the Captain trying to  _ run away _ and dragging the Commander with him. And Brii may be new to the squad, to the battalion, but he’s given Captain Rex three tattoos, has seen the scars from collar and whip and staff, and Fives had told him some of what’d happened on Kadavo (and thinking of Fives still  _ hurts), _ so he’d  _ known. _

But knowing and, and  _ knowing, _ are two totally different things, it seems.

And Jak Ordo looks like a cornered loth-wolf, like the Commander and General Skywalker sometimes do when they feel  _ trapped, _ and Brii knows that’s because of the Zygerrians, and he  _ burns. _

He doesn’t  _ mean _ to speak, but when Elle says  _ I don’t care, _ all smoothness and anger, the fire burning in him makes him step forward, makes him say, “I agree with Elle.”

“Brii--” General Kenobi starts, but Brii shakes his head, cuts the Jedi off (and it’s the anger, it’s all the anger, he’d  _ never _ dare to do this otherwise).

“One of them said  _ the Jedi screams, _ and he  _ laughed,” _ Brii says, and he realizes with a dim, distant sort of shock that his voice is  _ cold. _ “They were going to make us all slaves, sir!”

There’s a pause. General Skywalker looks  _ furious, _ cold and deadly; General Kenobi is  _ thoughtful. _ Brii can’t bring himself to look at the  _ Mand’alor, _ at Bo-Katan.

And then Jak speaks. “They die.” The two words are  _ heavy, _ ponderous, dropped into the silence like stones into the still surface of a pond.

Brii darts a glance at Bo-Katan Kryze, strangely  _ nervous, _ and sees she’s studying Jak closely. “Was he there?” she asks, very soft, very gently, posture totally open, and the older warrior nods shortly, once.

_ “Elek, Mand’alor.” _

Whoever  _ he _ is, Brii doesn’t think that’s good. At all. 

~~~

Rex thinks this is something that should concern him, the discussion about the Zygerrians’ fate. Instead he merely tracks with it while clinging to Ahsoka’s thoughts and reminding himself that he's  _ okay _ , that she doesn't hate him. Being on the Resolute helps - the Resolute is durasteel and pale light and  _ safety _ .

When Bo-Katan asks Jak if “ _ he was there _ ,” when Jak says yes and Rex remembers him saying “that one knows me,” he thinks he understands why Jak looks so still and sounds so dangerous, why Bo-Katan suddenly turns to his General and says, “He's right. It's long past time someone ended them.”

Slaves have masters, and he thinks maybe Jak had seen one of his.

_ The Jedi screams. _

_ Clones do too, if you shock them hard enough. _

And they had begged too, both of them. Those Zygerrians know it. And Rex wants them dead for it, simple as that.

And yet part of him balks at what he knows the Death Watch means: all the Zygerrians dead. He'd wanted that after Kadavo and he can't deny wanting it a little now, but that would be… would be too much. A slaughter, almost certainly. But they can't just leave the Zygerrians either, not after what they said and did, not with their whips and cruel smiles and the way they have always thrived on the pain of others.

“We are not wiping out an entire colony of sentients,” Kenobi insists, and Rex sees Anakin scowl. “I am not… fond of them, myself, but we can't.”

“They kriffing stuck you in a cage, Master,” Anakin snarls. “Molec tortured you, the queen- You can't possibly want us to just leave them alone!”

“That does not come into it,” Kenobi says, and Rex frowns and nudges Ahsoka's thoughts.

_ I don't understand how General Kenobi does this. _

Ahsoka startles a little, out of a memory of  _ pain _ , and Rex sighs and quickly runs his hand over her headtails a few times, soothing.  _ I don't either _ , she thinks.

“If you were imprisoned by them,” Bo-Katan says sharply, “then you must know we  _ can't  _ leave them alive, Kenobi. Filth like them don't need a place in the galaxy.”

“We don't get to be judges and executioners,” Kenobi snaps, sharper than Rex has heard him for a long time.

~~~

From the start, Bo-Katan had thought this mission was a bad idea. She's _ known _ about the Zygerrian colony here for years, of course, ever since she and Elle and Pre had come across Jak enslaved in that colony and rescued him. When she'd heard that the war was taking them _ back _ to Utapau, she'd hoped they wouldn't be anywhere _ near _ this colony.

She should've known better than to hope. “If your _ conscience _ prevents you from doing the _ right thing, _ then by all means, stay behind.” She pauses, looks steadily at Skywalker. “But I'm taking my warriors and _ ending _ this filth.”

“I'm coming with you,” Tano says softly, not lifting her head from Rex's pauldron. There's an old fear there, an old pain, and Bo-Katan _ burns. _ She likes this _ jetii, _ after all.

“Just be careful,  _ Mand'alor,” _ Kenobi says steadily, “that in your attempt to mete out _ justice, _ you do not make yourselves the judges of things you don't understand.”

Jak goes _ still _ at that, battle-still, and Bo-Katan swallows because this is _ not _ a good sign, and she really would rather not have a dead _ jetii _ on her hands. “Be careful, Kenobi,” she warns icily.

~~~

Kenobi doesn't know what he's talking about. Jak  _ understands _ these slavers, has seen more than enough overseers and masters to teach him exactly how they work. If anyone can judge them, it's him and the  _ jetii  _ Tano and the  _ Alor’ad _ .

“I am not going to become a murderer for the sake of fear,” Kenobi says sharply. “You know well enough what happens when we do that. This won't be  _ justice _ ,  _ Mand’alor, _ it will be a massacre.”

“It is not the same,” Jak growls, and it takes some effort not to take a threatening step forward.  _ Stillness _ . Wait. “They are slavers. I understand what they are,  _ jetii _ , I more than anyone am allowed to be executioner. This is not the same as your Order killing my people.”

“Isn't it?” Kenobi snaps, and Jak grinds his teeth together, considers shooting now, watching the  _ jetii  _ fall, and the thought is satisfying - but he has more control than that still. “And how is it up to you to decide who is too evil to live, Jak Ordo? How is the reckoning your right?”

Jak almost  _ laughs _ , because this is the  _ jetiise _ always, pretending to be righteous when they're just weak and diseased. “By blood and scars and fifteen years at the hands of  _ hut’uun _ like them,  _ jetii _ , because of you.”

“It isn't right, still,” and it's his  _ Mand’alor’s _ voice, Jango’s - the  _ adiik’s _ . He sounds exhausted, angry, uncertain, but, “We can't attack a colony of civvies with children. It would be a slaughter, and I… It wouldn't be  _ right _ .”

“How can you say that, after all they and scum like them have done to the galaxy, to your General?” Bo-Katan asks, nearly dismissively, like she finds him ridiculous.

Jak doesn't understand either. He's seen the  _ adiik’s _ scars, and his  _ cyare’s. _ This one has a master in that colony and he wants to let them live? It occurs to him that perhaps the  _ adiik  _ is just afraid, wants to run.

“Because I  _ hate them _ ,” Rex snarls, with a venom that Jak has not heard from the  _ adiik _ before. “But like the General said, I'm not going to become a murderer for it.”

~~~

Ahsoka wants nothing more than to see every single one of the Zygerrians dead, to know she is _ safe _ again, to know the only ones she'll ever have to call _ master _ are those who deserve it--but she remembers Sidious, remembers _ I forgive you! _ and the Force _ singing, _ like it had on Mortis when Anakin controlled both the Son and the Daughter. The anger and fear and pain of her memories practically _ begs _ her to descend upon the colony with lightsabers glowing, with the Son's fiery rage burning through her veins, and she _ almost _ steps forward.

Almost.

But…  _ doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? _ Kix hums, and Ahsoka sees again the three Zygerrians in the tunnels, sees _ collars _ on two of their necks, and she _ hesitates. _

Bo-Katan is looking at her expectantly, but Ahsoka finds herself suddenly reconsidering her decision to go with them. “I…” she starts, hesitates. “The guards had collars on.”

“What does that matter?” Bo-Katan asks, shifting a little.

And Ahsoka thinks, strangely, of Anakin, of his story of Tatooine, and she takes a careful breath. “You never found out _ why _ the Tuskens took your mother,” she says, watches Anakin _ flinch. _ “We--we can't make that mistake here. We need more _ information.” _

_ Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? _

She wants them _ dead-- _ or is that the fear talking, the whisper that she'll never be safe as long as they live? “They die,” Jak says again, so simple, and it takes all her will to shake her head.

“Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?” she whispers, and then, “Some of them are _ slaves, _ and--no one deserves that.”

~~~

It is a deep relief, to Rex, to hear Ahsoka say that. He'd felt her fear and pain, so when she said she would go with Bo-Katan, he had not wanted to tell her he thought that was unwise. Of course he'd go with her where she went, but this… it would be too much.

“They do,” Jak says, uncompromising, dangerous. “Remember what they did to you,  _ jetii _ \- they are only experiencing what they've always done to others. If you want to give them mercy, you can kill them.” Rex doesn’t think they can stop Jak from laying waste to that colony, not without making themselves his enemies as well. Jak has agreed to cooperate with Ahsoka, but this is not something he will budge on.

Ahsoka hesitates, and Rex feels this all goes against her instincts and her fears and everything she wants to do, but, “We can’t.”

Jak  _ growls _ and then with a suddenness that makes Rex flinch, he turns on Anakin and Kenobi and says, fierce, “We’re going, now.”

General Kenobi actually squares his shoulders and it occurs to Rex that he might try to  _ stop _ Jak - him with a hole in his chest still. For a moment Jak locks eyes with Kenobi and Rex has a horrible image of Kenobi on the floor, neck broken, before Cody can even fire at Jak. But Anakin talks first. “We should scout it out.”

Thank the  _ little gods _ . Jak stops, and the  _ mando’ade _ \- who’d begun moving as soon as Jak did - all look at Anakin suspiciously. “Explain,” Jak growls.

Rex thinks he’s too lost in his memories, still, to be ready for this kind of  _ threat _ \- his gut says he should  _ get out _ before this escalates, and it takes  _ control _ to stay still and ready. He rests his hand between Ahsoka’s shoulder blades, breathes.

~~~

All of this--from the slavers to Tatooine and the Tuskens to Jak’s hands tight around his blasters--it all hits too close to home for Anakin’s comfort, stretches his control to the limits and beyond, leaving him struggling to keep his breaths  _ even, _ his hands loose and relaxed. Every instinct  _ screams _ that Jak is a hostile, and it’s all he can do  _ not _ to draw his lightsaber, step in front of his Master. Obi-Wan is still injured (Obi-Wan is the weakest of the group), and Jak is a krayt dragon boxed into a cave, hissing and snapping, claws unsheathed and razor fangs bared and wings mantled. 

He wants Padme.

Padme would be able to diffuse the situation with a few calm words, would be able to soothe Jak, talk the old warrior  _ down _ enough so that they can make plans--but Padme isn’t here, and Obi-Wan is  _ prey, _ and Anakin doesn’t think either Ahsoka or Rex are in a good enough place, right now, to try and handle this.

Which means it’s up to him. 

He takes a deep breath, tries to  _ open _ his posture, keeping his hands well-within Jak’s vision. “I want to see them dead too,” he admits, but holds up one hand to forestall the Mandalorian’s response--a trick he’d picked up from Padme. “But--” a breath, in and out, control the anger, let it go, give it to the Force, “I was born a slave to the Hutts. The Jedi found me on Tatooine when I was nine, freed me, took me to the Temple, but they--couldn’t free my mother.”

Jak just  _ looks _ at him, and Anakin takes another careful breath, because if this doesn’t work he’s not sure  _ what _ he’s going to do. “Not--not that that really matters,” he adds, under his breath, sighs. “The  _ point _ is, I was raised as a slave, and if someone had come in and just destroyed everything, my mom and I and all the rest of us, we would’ve died, because we  _ depended _ on our masters to survive. So we can’t just go into this blind. There are  _ children _ down there, Jak, and I  _ know _ the Mando code doesn’t approve of killing innocent children.”

Jak’s left hand tightens more on his blaster, but his right hand goes to a hilt sheathed on his leg, and Anakin finds himself not wanting to  _ know _ what that is. “What would a  _ jetii _ know of our honor? You have none,” the old warrior snarls out, but he’s not so much  _ angry _ as--as  _ trapped, _ Anakin thinks, as claustrophobic. 

It all happens in slow motion--Jak is tensing, tightening, intent and focused and  _ ice, _ a rattlesnake just beneath the surface of the sand, and Anakin sees it too late to say anything. Crys is  _ moving, _ stepping forward, pulling his helmet off with a brash look on his face, and the Kyr’tsad warrior rolls his eyes, says, “Who  _ gives a shit _ about the Mando code of  _ honor?” _ and he’s too loud, too  _ close, _ and Anakin watches in  _ horror _ as he pulls his blaster.

And Jak  _ moves. _

Faster than a striking snake, the older  _ mando’ad _ has a blaster in one hand and a mid-length vibroblade in the other, lunging at Crys, and Anakin lets his instincts take over--he pulls his ‘saber, Force-jumps  _ over _ Jak, ignites the blade as he lands. Jak strikes with the vibroblade, and  _ kriff _ it’s cortosis-weave, it catches his blue ‘saber blade on the edge, and Jak looks  _ murderous, _ shoving forward, aiming to fire with his blaster, and Anakin  _ swears. _ “Stand  _ down,” _ he snaps out, to no effect, and he has to back up, disengage to deflect the blaster bolts harmlessly into the air.

Jak holsters his blaster, pulls out a second vibroblade, and advances; Anakin holds back, slides into the opening position of Soresu, clutches his defense close, because he’s  _ not attacking. _ He won’t. 

_ “Jak!” _ Bo-Katan shouts, and she sounds  _ panicked, _ but the old warrior doesn’t  _ listen,  _ just launches an attack, and  _ kriff _ he’s good, all fierce strength and flowing like water from stance to stance, trying to--to get  _ past _ Anakin, to get to Crys, to  _ eliminate the threat, _ and Anakin doesn’t  _ know what to do. _

And then:  _ “Al’verde, gev!” _

It’s--it’s  _ Ahsoka, _ stepping away from Rex with her eyes flashing.  _ “Sushir at haar Mand’alor, Al’verde. Udesii, gev, mirdir.” _

And Jak  _ stops, _ freezes mid-motion, eyes calculating, and then he takes a step back, spins, points his vibroblades at Ahsoka, dangerously, threateningly.  _ “Tion’jor?” _

_ “Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Kaysh Kyr’tsad, bid kaysh b’aliit, kaysh be’vod.” _ She steps even closer to Jak, hands on her hips, firm.  _ “Kaysh mirsh solus, a kaysh su b’aliit.” _

There’s a very very long pause, and then Jak slowly, slowly drops his vibroblades.  _ “Gar serim, alor,” _ and he nods his head, steps back.  _ “N’ceta, vod, Mand’alor,” _ and he turns to Bo-Katan, bows his head low and doesn’t look up, almost  _ slumping. _ “I am not fit for this mission,” he says slowly, his Basic even more accented and slurred than usual.

_ When the kriff did you get fluent in Mando’a? _ Anakin asks Ahsoka, deactivating his ‘saber and hooking it back on his belt. She projects a snippet of a memory at him, her asking Rex to teach her, and he smiles a little, steps forward again. “Jak--”

The warrior spins, cuts him off. “Why did you not attack?” he asks harshly, shaking his head. “You are a  _ jetii, _ you could have killed me in my  _ a’den.” _

Anakin frowns, tilts his head to one side, says, “I didn’t want to  _ kill _ you, Jak, just stop you from doing something you’d regret later.” Jak doesn’t  _ understand, _ but that’s okay. “Come on,  _ vod, _ it’s all good, if you’re good--we still want you down there with us. I’d trust you on my six.”

Jak barks a hoarse laugh. “You are a fool.”

“Yes, he  _ is,” _ Obi-Wan says, glares. “Anakin, if you get yourself killed--”

That’s  _ so unfair. _ “I had it under control!” he yelps, hands flying out to the sides.

Ahsoka  _ laughs, _ and kriff her, she’s supposed to be  _ on his side, _ here. “Of course you did, Skyguy. That’s why I had to step in and save you,  _ again.” _

“Shut  _ up, _ Snips,” he grumbles sulkily.

And then Bo-Katan snaps out, “Crys Rodarch, barracks,  _ now. _ We  _ will _ be discussing this later.”

“But I--”

_ “Ne’johaa,” _ she hisses, one hand going to the darksaber hilt (and kriff, she’s scary when she does that). “This is not up for debate.”

“Yes, sir,” the idiot kid says sulkily, and then he turns and storms off the bridge.

~~~

Rex freezes as soon as Jak’s vibroblade comes out of its sheath, instinctively scrambles  _ back _ until his back hits a row of databanks. Ahsoka comes with him, more controlled, and he feels her fear, but he’s  _ terrified _ because fighting means  _ pain _ and it'll just hurt his  _ vod’e  _ and his General and all of them and he doesn't-

_ Rex, cyare _ , and he flinches, drags himself back from the panic, but he  _ can’t _ step in, Anakin has this after all - but Jak fights like a Loth-wolf, hard blows and no wasted movement, smooth yet  _ intense _ , and Rex should get in there and  _ help _ but there is something in his bones that’s frozen and doesn’t let him  _ move _ .

Until there’s a twist of  _ resolve _ and suddenly his Soka strides away from him, firm and calculated, and Anakin and Jak both look at her at once as she says, “ _ Al’verde _ ,  _ gev! _ ”

Her sentence isn’t the smoothest, but she tells him to  _ stop and think _ and Rex projects warning.

_ Kriffing don’t, Soka, it’s not safe _ . Maybe she can succeed in talking Jak down, but he has been in danger of snapping since they saw- saw the Zygerrians, and Rex thinks she’ll make him feel even more trapped.

And Jak has a point, why should he stop, this is all  _ dangerous _ , Crys has been nothing but a threat, and of course he doesn’t deserve to die but Jak doesn’t  _ care _ right now and Rex just wants her to  _ come back  _ and stop taking risks, now isn’t the time, he-

He has to kriffing  _ control himself _ .

He pushes himself away from the databanks, takes a few measured steps toward Ahsoka, although he stops before he can appear as another threat to Jak because then, then Jak might  _ kill her _ . So no eye contact, no looking at Jak, just easing a hand close to his blaster (but not too close, not too dangerous), just waiting, hoping that when Ahsoka says, “He is your family” it isn’t the  _ wrong thing _ . (Ahsoka’s Mando’a is better than Rex had thought; she seems to have picked up more from the 501st than he thought. Part of him hopes there are some terms she hasn’t figured out yet.) Anakin’s hand is tight enough around his saber that Rex knows he’s afraid too.

He’s fixated on Jak’s hands on the hilts of his vibroblades ( _ the Zygerrian’s thumb on the whip shifts towards the switch, knuckles tightened into sharp angles, and Ahsri and the old Togrutan kneel on the ground and Rex still doesn’t totally realize what will happen, until the Zygerrian overseer shifts his hand so his grip is better, stronger, and flicks the whip, only the tension in his hand belying the casual expression on his face, and- _ ), so he notices immediately when Jak’s grip loosens and then the blades fall to the floor with a  _ deafening  _ clang and Rex can move again, can shove down the icy fear in his limbs yet  _ again _ and move to stand just behind his  _ jetii _ .

Jak looks ashamed, says  _ n’ceta _ and Rex finds he understands, and something about that helps ground him, helps him  _ focus _ and feel less like Jak is a threat. Ahsoka and Anakin talk like this is  _ fine _ now, although there is wariness in Soka’s thoughts, but Rex thinks this still isn't  _ right _ , Jak is unstable and he does  _ not  _ want to scout out the colony, wants them all to just  _ leave _ and ignore it all. This isn't  _ okay. _

~~~

Jak is  _ disgusted _ with himself.

He stands, head bowed, eyes trained on the tops of his boots, waits for his  _ Mand’alor _ to mete out punishment. He  _ deserves _ discipline for this, he knows; he’s attacked  _ Kyr’tsad, _ he’s attacked his  _ aliit, _ and had it not been for the  _ jetiise  _ he would’ve almost  _ certainly _ killed Crys Rodarch (who is a  _ di’kut, _ he should have known better than to pull a blaster). He doesn’t understand why Skywalker hadn’t  _ killed him, _ though he understands even less why the  _ jetii _ had  _ protected _ Rodarch in the first place: the  _ adiik _ has been… not good.

Skywalker’s answer makes very little sense. What makes even  _ less _ sense is the fact that the  _ jetii _ had called him  _ brother. _ Perhaps it’s an instinctive thing; Jak has seen how the  _ jetii _ calls his men  _ vod, _ how they return the favor when off-duty. (He doesn’t think it’s instinctive.)

After Bo-Katan sends the  _ di’kut adiik _ back to the barracks to sit out the rest of the mission, there’s silence, thick and heavy, and no one seems very interested in dispelling it. Jak does not speak. He has not earned the right to. (He should not have lost control of himself so.)

“Jak,” the  _ Mand’alor _ says carefully, as though she’s worried he’ll attack (and that makes him  _ sick, _ he would never attack his  _ Mand’alor, _ not even in the deepest throes of a flashback), and he carefully regulates his response, tamps down the urge to look up, keeps his eyes focused steady and still on the ground. “Jak, can you handle this?”

She should not have to  _ ask. _ He should never lose himself so much that his  _ Mand’alor _ doubts his ability to be calm during battle. To fight, to focus, to do what he has trained to do since an early age.  _ “Elek, Mand’alor,” _ he replies, smooth and low, hopes his voice does not betray him by shaking. He is  _ fine. _ The  _ jetii _ wants him on this  _ aka, _ therefore he must go, must fight. Or  _ not _ fight, if that is the chosen route, though the idea makes his blood  _ boil _ with hatred.

(He has shamed his entire  _ aliit _ today, in behaving as an  _ adiik _ after shedding first blood--the  _ Mand’alor _ would be perfectly justified in refusing to allow him to fight, though the  _ jetii _ Skywalker wants him along. Wants  _ him, _ Jak Ordo, on his six. He doesn’t  _ understand.) _

The clone  _ verde _ shift awkwardly, looking around at each other, clearly unsure what to do now. Jak can’t bring himself to look at the  _ Alor’ad, _ or at Tano, or at Bo-Katan, so he just stands, forces his hands to stay open, though his fingers want to curl back into tight fists. “I shouldn’t have let them send you down there,” Bo-Katan says, and  _ that _ is surprising enough that he raises his eye to her face before jerking it quickly back down. “We  _ knew _ what was down there--”

“No,  _ Mand’alor, _ we didn’t,” Elle says firmly. “It’s been a  _ decade, _ how could we be expected to know if the scum are still there or not?”

“What are you  _ talking _ about?” Skywalker asks, and Jak masters a flinch, does not move. He cannot.

Bo-Katan’s voice is measured when she speaks. “Pre Vizla, Elle, and I, along with a few others, rescued Jak from this colony ten years ago.”

He does  _ not _ want their pity, want the looks he can  _ feel _ sparking over his skin like electricity (the man who calls himself Jak’s master presses the switch and his collar hisses to life and pain grips him like a vice, and he gasps a jagged breath, curls his fingers round the durasteel bar and  _ does not fight _ because he  _ survives, _ fighting is death and he will not die this way), does not want to hear the useless platitudes of apology, because words are all well and good, but where were those words when Dooku sold him? 

(His hands are bound tight together and he cannot free them, his collar sparks and spits and he  _ does not scream, _ he curls over himself, grits his teeth together, imagines he is cloaked in the comforting weight of his  _ beskar’gam, _ his blasters in his hands, and he almost misses it when there’s a strange whining  _ hum _ and his arms are freed, and then something slices through the collar, just barely kisses his neck, leaves a scorching burn behind on the scar tissue thick and black and bubbling there, and he can hardly breathe from the pain and there are hands pulling him upright, familiar rippling words of a language he has not heard in fifteen years, save from his own lips. There is a black blade he  _ knows _ intimately, though the armor is not  _ his Mand’alor, _ but that doesn’t matter, he chokes out a desperate plea, thinks maybe he’s hallucinating, it wouldn’t be a surprise, he’s been too long without food and water, too long in the pain.) 

They’ve been talking. He swallows, tries to shove away the memories, back behind the  _ beskar’gam _ of his mind, where they  _ belong. _ He has no use for these memories, they are nothing but pain and sorrow and grief and horror, nothing but a catalyst for actions he doesn’t wish to  _ do, _ and he breathes, in and out, in and out, lifts his head, meets his  _ Mand’alor’s _ gaze. “I will go,” he says, and his words are rough and perhaps too heavy, too slow, but they are enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Yaim: home
> 
> Ni partayli, gar darasuum: I remember you, so you are eternal.
> 
> Laam, buir, laam!: Up, Daddy, up! (technically, because Mando'a doesn't have gendered nouns, buir just means parent, and gender depends on context)
> 
> Verd(e): soldier(s)
> 
> Alor: leader, chief, head
> 
> An jate, vod, gar jate: Everything's good, mate, you're good.
> 
> Ne shab'rud'ni: Don't mess with me/leave me alone - very strong warning and a threat of physical violence
> 
> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur: Today is a good day for someone else to die.
> 
> Gar serim: You're right.
> 
> Vor'e: Thanks
> 
> Gev: stop
> 
> Al'verde: Commander
> 
> Sushir at haar Mand’alor, Al’verde. Udesii, gev, mirdir.: Listen to the Mand'alor, Commander. Calm down, stop, think.
> 
> Tion'jor: Why?
> 
> Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Kaysh Kyr’tsad, bid kaysh b’aliit, kaysh be’vod. Kaysh mirsh solus, a kaysh su b’aliit.: Family is more than blood. He's Death Watch, so he's your family, he's your brother. He's an idiot, but he's still your family.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back again with another precious bb OC because of reasons. We love him. We love alllll these children.
> 
> This chapter has kind of an intense panic attack in it, plus child slaves, so proceed with caution please, lovelies. Thanks for sticking with us!

Miik is still too young to do much more for his master than clean and fetch things, and he is good at those things, because when he makes mistakes, his papa doesn’t eat. Worse things happen to his papa all the time, but Miik still can’t stand seeing him go hungry. So he is good at everything he has to do, good at carrying full loads of supplies, good at starting the fire in the morning, good at setting out his master’s clothes and cleaning his master’s shoes.

His mama doesn’t eat much anyway, just  _ stares _ , and when his master gets out the whip, she does as she’s told. Miik is glad; she looks awful, all the time, and he doesn’t want it to be worse for her.

His papa tells him “Remember, boy. I can take it.  _ You  _ can take it. Your mama can’t.”

His mama tried to hang herself, once. Miik found her and his papa rushed out to cut her down before their master knew. Miik has learned that you  _ do not _ let the master know anything but what he would like knowing.

Today, the warriors all  _ left _ . The masters and some of the other slaves, even Miik’s papa. That means someone is  _ here _ \- Miik hates his master (although that isn’t allowed, so he keeps it to himself), but everyone knows it’s worse if people find them. Then they’ll all be killed. But they’d come back, rumors spreading of the Republic and a  _ Jedi _ and Miik remembers what his papa told him: “Jedi are dangerous, Miik.”

Some of the other slaves, the ones that are not Zygerrian, talk about wanting the Jedi and the Republic to come save them, and Miik sometimes thinks that that sounds nice, but his papa always tells him  _ they don’t want that _ . It’s rule two: we don’t want to be found.

After the battle, Miik’s master is in a foul mood; he makes Miik get him a glass of whiskey and then shouts at him for pouring it wrong, and not full enough. After some six or seven glasses of it, Miik has long been shaking, head down. His master is the most dangerous when he’s had whiskey.

Then Miik  _ trips _ . He  _ knows _ better, papa says to  _ watch his step _ and he always does but his master had left his coat on the floor and Miik’s foot tangles in it because he doesn’t step high enough, drags his feet, and he falls, spills whiskey  _ all over the coat _ and oh  _ no _ . Oh no, he didn’t mean to, he knows better, this is why papa gets so upset, why his mama doesn’t speak to him, and his master is going to  _ hurt him _ and he wants to  _ run away _ .

Miik scrambles to his feet, flattening his ears back against his head and tilting his head back, exposing his throat like he knows his master expects. “‘m sorry,” he whispers, wanting to cry. He’s too old to cry now, he’s supposed to be brave enough not to cry. “I didn’t mean to, Master, it was an  _ accident _ .”

“You kriffing worthless little shit,” his master snarls, and Miik flinches, the fur on his back standing up, and he tightens his ears against his head. His master pulls the whip out, clumsily, flicks it on and Miik can’t help a frightened whimper.

His papa steps in the way, raises his hand,  _ catches _ the whip. And it’s not  _ right _ , his papa always says you  _ don’t fight the masters, _ you can’t, that’s rule  _ one _ . “Papa!” Miik yelps, and the master shoves his papa to the ground and Miik is crying now, even though he’s too old and he knows better. He has seen his papa be whipped many, many times, but it’s still awful when it’s  _ his fault _ .

“Enough of you,” his master says, and Miik whines and closes his eyes as the whip comes down and papa  _ shrieks _ .

Someone has to help him, has to help his papa and his mama, has to make his master leave them  _ alone _ . Anyone, just…  _ make him stop hurting my papa, it’s my fault, he needs to stop _ .

The power, the magic that he sometimes has, answers him almost. He could use it. But he tried once and his papa told him  _ no _ . It’s  _ rule number one,  _ you  _ don’t hurt the master,  _ you don’t fight, you don’t do stupid things that could get you killed.  _ Someone help me, help my papa _ .

_ Kid? _

The magic is  _ talking to him _ . It’s never done that before, it’s just power, it doesn’t normally  _ talk _ . Miik reaches out for it and grabs on, hard, tight.  _ Please, please, my papa- if I help him, Master will kill him. You have to help him _ .

~~~

Anakin is laying on his stomach, peering over the edge of a rock formation down at the settlement below, when the Force  _ screams, _ and someone reaches out and  _ latches _ onto his mind,  _ hard. _ There’s a vague impression of raw  _ terror, _ a wave of pain, and a babbled message:  _ make him stop hurting my papa, it’s my fault, he needs to  _ **_stop,_ ** _ please someone help me, help my papa, _ and Anakin jerks back a little bit because there’s  _ too much. _

_ Kid? _ he tries, surprised, because this mind feels  _ young _ and scared, too young for this much fear.

_ Please, please, my papa--if I help him, Master will kill him. You have to help him _ .

Anakin  _ swears. _ There’s more, this time, an impression of a young boy, small and scared and  _ guilty, _ flashes of  _ mama _ empty-eyed and flinching from a whip,  _ papa _ saying  _ rule number one, don’t fight the masters, _ and--

Oh,  _ kriff. _

“We’ve got a situation, Snips,” he murmurs, scooting back from the edge and looking at his padawan, leaning into Rex’s shoulder with her eyes closed.  _ Easy, it’s gonna be alright, _ he sends back to the kid, soothing and careful and soft.  _ What’s your name? _

_ Miik, _ the boy answers.  _ The magic doesn’t usually talk back. _

_I’m not the magic,_ and Anakin can’t help but grin a little, _kriff._ _My name’s Anakin, and I can help your papa--just give me a minute to find you, okay?_

_ But… _ Miik hesitates, and Anakin can feel his fear.  _ Papa says rule number two is we can’t ever be found. _

_ Don’t worry, Miik. I promise we won’t hurt you or your papa or your mama, _ and then Anakin blinks as an orange hand waves in front of his face. “You in there, Skyguy?”

“Huh?” Oh, very eloquent, Skywalker. Right, problem, there’s a problem. “Yeah, so there’s a sensitive down there. A slave kid, his name is Miik--I… might have promised to help his papa?”

“A  _ Force-sensitive?” _ Ahsoka frowns, bites her lip, hesitating. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Snips, I’m sure,” he says dryly, rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’ve got to get down there.”

_ Just hang on, kid. I’m coming. _

~~~

When the sounds of  _ blasterfire _ start, Miik huddles in the corner by himself and reminds himself  _ someone is coming _ , someone’s actually… someone’s coming who, he thinks, won’t be in danger if he tries to help. The person in his head, Anakin, doesn’t say much, but sometimes he says  _ it’s okay _ and that makes it easier. Especially because his master’s locked his papa up, said no food for three days, and Miik thinks the only reason his master has forgotten to do anything to punish him is because of the blasters, and being a little drunk.

Miik should go find his mama and make sure she’s alright, but she’ll just stare, and not talk, and not react. She probably hasn’t even noticed the sounds of fighting.

_ Rule two is we don’t want to be found _ , and Miik thinks they’ve been found after all, and he understands that means terrible things for all his people. He thinks the masters deserve that, but his papa had told him that slaves like them wouldn’t be safe either.

_ You’re going to be fine _ , Anakin says, and Miik swallows, stands to leave his corner and go find his mama.

_ You’re still coming? _ he asks. He’s supposed to be braver than that but he’s scared anyway.

_ Yeah, getting there, kid _ .

That helps. Miik glances around, automatically, for his master, but he’s nowhere to be seen, so he scrambles out of the room and down the narrow hallway that leads back to the kitchen and the slaves’ quarters. He needs to help his mama, and make sure she’s ready to go when Anakin comes. He doesn’t know how she’ll react, she just acts on autopilot all the time now. He hopes this will fix everything, although the dangerous sounds are closer now and he partly wonders if this is his fault, for talking to Anakin. He didn’t exactly  _ mean _ to break his papa’s rule, it had just happened.

He ducks around the kitchen staff, weaving between their legs, and jogs through the door into the room where his mama usually is when she isn’t working. She’s sitting on her pallet, staring blankly across the room at the wall, and he glances around for his master again before going to her, sitting down in front of her. She’s not good at listening anymore. (Miik remembers when he was only five and she used to listen, used to talk more than his papa does.)

“Hey, Mama,” he says. “Mama, you have to be ready to listen to me, okay?”

She  _ sort of _ looks at him, at least. Her ears prick up a little, that’s a good sign.

“There’s someone coming, they’re going to get us and papa and we’re going to go. I think.” No reaction to that, which Miik supposes was too much to hope for anyway. His mama only listens to the master anymore, really- and then she straightens, tenses, and her ears swivel straight up and forward, which means she’s paying attention, but she’s not looking at Miik still, so-

“All of you, up,” his master growls, and Miik stands with his mama. He wishes he could duck behind her, but she’s not as strong as he is, so he doesn’t. “You’re coming with me. Now. No running.”

They  _ know _ that, Miik thinks. You try running, you get shocked. But he can hear blasters and it’s  _ dangerous _ so maybe that’s why they need a reminder. “Come on, Mama,” he says, although she listens to the master better than he does, most of the time.

He doesn’t know why his master wants so many of them with him, but he knows better than to ask because rule three is you don’t speak unless spoken to, and number four is the master is always right. For some reason, the magic doesn’t feel safe right now.

_ Are you coming? _ He can’t help asking again.

_ Promise, kid. Almost there _ .

~~~

Anakin follows the Force to a decent-sized group of Zygerrians on the edge of the settlement, making their way towards the fighting; in the center of the group is a finely-dressed Zygerrian with a blaster and a whip with an engraved handle. With him are a pair of Zygerrians holding plainer whips, collared, and he feels Ahsoka’s  _ fear _ and thinks these must be the guards she and Rex know.

Which isn’t  _ good. _

The rest of the Zygerrians, five or six of them, are hollow-eyed and dressed in rags, all of them wearing shock collars--and one of them is a little boy no older than eight, pressing close to a woman’s side. The Force  _ tugs _ him towards this one, and Anakin knows instinctively this is Miik, small and scared, his fur light grey with little dark dapples.

There’s fire from behind them--Ahsoka spins, ignites her ‘sabers, starts deflecting blaster bolts, says,  _ I’ve got your six, Master, get over there! _

Anakin swears under his breath, ignites his own lightsaber, lunges forward. Ignores the master for now, because this is more important. “Hey, you two bastards! You’re the assholes who hurt my padawan in Kadavo, aren’t you?”

A shock whip hisses to life (and Anakin  _ does not cringe). _ “Skywalker,” the one snarls, smirks a little. “Your padawan screams,” and he brandishes the whip, and the other slaves, the lower ones,  _ flinch. _

Well, that’s enough of that. Anakin bares his teeth, clenches his fist,  _ yanks _ the whip out of the guard’s hand, slices it in half with his ‘saber. “You shouldn’t taunt me,” he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not in a very good mood.”

“Anakin, if you get yourself injured or killed Kix is going to  _ murder me,” _ Ahsoka shouts, flipping through the air to deflect more blaster bolts.

Anakin rolls his eyes, pointedly ignores her. He aims his ‘saber at the master, says, “Slaver scum.  _ Let them go _ and I might spare your life.”

The master  _ laughs, _ and multiple collars spark to life--including Miik’s collar, and he can  _ feel _ the boy’s pain, and--and--rage turns his vision red, and he  _ snarls, _ clenches both hands into fists and  _ jerks _ back, collars crumpling off like paper, and he flings them aside, advances forward.  _ “You shouldn’t have  _ **_done_ ** _ that.” _

~~~

The person in Miik’s head is a  _ Jedi? _ The one person to come help him is a  _ Jedi. _ Which means it’s Miik’s fault they’ve all been found, and maybe Anakin won’t help his papa after all. He can…  _ feel _ Anakin, and Anakin is  _ angry _ .

He didn’t mean to do this, he just wanted someone to  _ help _ .

Except… except his collar is off, and his mama’s, and  _ all of theirs _ . Which he  _ thinks _ was because of Anakin, and he’s so  _ confused _ . Anakin is  _ angry _ , and there are two armored people behind him and it’s not as if Miik’s never seen armor before, but it’s never looked like  _ that _ and he brought these people here and he doesn’t know if that’s good.

His master twitches back, and Miik knows the two guards are  _ supposed _ to protect him and help him keep order, that’s the way it works, but they just cower back out of the way. “I gave you a chance, slaver scum,” Anakin says, and Miik grabs his mama’s hand because she won’t run, if something happens, and he has to be ready to pull her away.  _ Anakin? _ He wishes he knew whether he’s done the right thing and he just wants an answer, wants  _ the Jedi _ to tell him this is all fine.

He doesn’t know if Anakin exactly  _ answers _ , but he thinks he’s at least listening.

Then one of the soldiers steps forward, reaches up and pulls off his helmet (and Miik instinctively pulls back because the human’s face is worse than his helmet). “His life is mine, Skywalker.”

Miik tugs his mama a few steps back, tentatively tries again:  _ Anakin? My papa? _

~~~

_We’ll get your papa as soon as you’re free,_ Anakin promises, and he locks eyes with Jak, frowns. “Former master?” Jak nods, and Anakin lets him go, because that’s _true._ _“Gar serim,”_ he says, nods. “Go, Jak.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t wait, just nods, pulls out one vibroblade and one blaster, stalks forward, and Anakin takes a deep breath, beckons to Miik with his free hand. “Miik, hey, kid, c’mere, bring your mama. Let’s go find your papa.” He signals to Bo-Katan with one hand, and she and Elle fly over, land--covering Jak. “Rex, Snips, with me.”

~~~

Miik isn’t sure going with Anakin is a good idea, really, but the Jedi wants to find his papa and the human soldier with the awful face has a blaster and a sword and Miik thinks he’s more afraid of him than he is of Anakin, who feels a little less angry now. The  _ other Jedi _ comes too, and the other soldier, and Miik wants to go back to his corner until all this  _ stops _ , but he wants his papa more. So he tugs on his mama’s hand and takes a careful step after Anakin, the magic telling him he should  _ not look back _ .

“Master usually locks people up on the second floor,” he says quietly, points at his master’s house and the slave quarters. His papa has gotten locked up a few times, and it’s always been Miik’s fault, so he knows.

_ It’s gonna be okay,  _ Anakin says to him, and Miik tries to keep his ears from twitching, his fur from standing on end. He just isn’t  _ sure _ .  _ We need to go, kid, come on _ . Then Anakin presses a button, and his lightsaber shuts off, which Miik thinks is good.

“Okay,” he says, glancing nervously at the soldier and the other Jedi. His mama’s hand tightens on his when he starts walking, pulling her with him, but she follows. She’s not doing so well, not after being shocked, she never  _ is _ , but that happens a lot and Miik thinks he can get them both at least back to the buildings.

_ Hey, kid, you don’t feel good. You shouldn’t be walking _ , Anakin says, and Miik makes a face, just a small one. What does Anakin know, Miik thinks, this is fine for now. He can sit down when he gets back to the house so he’s not as tired, and then they can go get his papa. Maybe Anakin will have to help his mama, she’s not as strong as him, but still.

_ You said we had to go _ , he says, walking a little faster because the power says he needs to, and because he’s nervous. Not scared. Just nervous.

_ We do. You still shouldn’t be walking, Miik. Neither should your mama _ .

_ I know, stup- I mean, I know. _ Miik isn’t good at talking in his head, he decides. It’s much harder to say things  _ right _ .

Then all of a sudden, Anakin is crouching down and touching his shoulder, and Miik holds tighter to his mama’s hand although this isn’t bad, he  _ thinks _ . “How about my friend Ahsoka here takes your mama somewhere safe, where we can help her, and I carry you and you show me where your papa is?”

Miik can  _ not _ let his mama go somewhere without him, his papa would be  _ angry _ , and it isn’t safe. Even if Anakin is safe, his mama would be  _ terrified _ . “No,” he says, stronger than he’s supposed to, but Anakin isn’t mad at him for practically calling him stupid, so…

“She’ll be safe, and Ahsoka can help her get some sleep so she isn’t scared,” Anakin says,  _ very _ gently, and Miik hesitates. The other Jedi, Ahsoka, looks nice, Miik decides - he still definitely isn’t sure about the soldier, and his papa isn’t going to be happy, but Miik’s stomach hurts and his mama isn’t doing so well, so… so maybe it’s okay.

_ Do you promise she’ll be okay? _ Miik asks.

_ I promise _ , Anakin says, and Miik isn’t sure how he knows, but he’s  _ certain _ Anakin means the promise.

_ Okay _ . Miik pulls his hand out of his mama’s and pats her arm. “Look, Mama, I’m going to get Papa, and then I’ll be back, okay?” It won’t help her much, he thinks, but her ears flick which means she probably heard.

The other Jedi touches his mama’s hand, and Miik doesn’t  _ want _ to leave her because they help his mama  _ first _ , that’s not even a rule, it’s just the way it is, but he  _ thinks, hopes _ , this will help.

~~~

Anakin bends down a little, slips his arms around Miik and lifts the kid up, settling him onto one hip. Meanwhile, Ahsoka murmurs  _ “Sleep,” _ her voice heavy with the Force, and she catches the Zygerrian woman when she crumples.  _ I’ll get her to Kix and be back,  _ she tells him silently, and Anakin nods his thanks.

Miik rests his chin on Anakin’s shoulder, and then there’s a bolt of  _ fear, _ quickly stifled, and the kid hides his face. It’s Rex, Anakin thinks, all in armor and bucket on, and he sends reassurance.  _ He’s not gonna hurt you, promise. _

Miik pulls back from his mind a little, his thoughts focusing on  _ papa, _ and Anakin sighs, adjusts his hold on the small boy and starts for the buildings, Rex behind him. (He doesn’t look back at Jak and the slaver, he doesn’t want to  _ see _ it.) The house is mostly empty, and Miik points him to the stairs quickly enough; upstairs, there are several narrow, barren rooms, windowless. One of them is locked.  _ Hang on, kid, _ and Anakin shifts Miik to his left side so he can pull out his ‘saber. He closes his eyes, feels for the Force--there’s a Force-signature in one of the rooms, and he lets the Force guide him there, stops outside it.

_ What are you doing? _

_ Opening the door, _ Anakin says, and ignites his ‘saber. Miik feels  _ scared, _ and Anakin soothes the kid instinctively, even as he slices the door completely off its hinges, Force-shoves it to the ground. “See?” He puts his ‘saber back away, smiles. 

On the floor is a Zygerrian man, fresh whip burns on his back and arm and side, and he looks--a mixture of terrified and relieved. “Miik!” he says, desperate and eager and  _ scared, _ “Miik, what are you  _ doing _ with a Jedi--”

“He’s Force-sensitive,” Anakin interrupts, and he crooks his hand into a claw and pulls the man’s collar off. “He asked for help and I heard him. Rex, get him up.” He presses his wristcomm, says, “How’s it looking out there,  _ Mand’alor?” _

_ “Mostly just cleanup left,” _ Bo-Katan says easily.  _ “Could use one of you  _ jetii _ to get their collars off--” _

“Ask Kix.”

_ “Kix went back with Tano.” _

Kriff. “I’m  _ busy,” _ Anakin complains sharply, “just… hang on, I’ll have Snips help you. Any word on Grievous?”

_ “I’ve been a bit busy,” _ Bo-Katan snarks, and he sighs. That’s  _ true, _ but…

“Keep an eye on Jak,” Anakin says, and then turns back to Rex (who’s got his bucket off and clipped to his belt, the Zygerrian leaning against his shoulder). “Let’s get back, these guys need the medbay, and probably some food.”

~~~

Rex nods, feels the Zygerrian he's supporting stiffen. He wants to get out of here, wants to find Soka and curl up in his quarters and hide from  _ all of this _ , from all the marks from whips, from the scarring on the poor child’s neck where maybe he won't grow fur again, from the guards who know exactly what it takes to break him and his Jedi.

The boy is  _ brave _ , Rex thinks, and that's good. The boy's father may be too, but right now Rex thinks he might actually try  _ not _ to leave and that makes no sense.

“Come on,” Anakin says, and Rex gives himself a shake and pushes himself to a steady walk, takes as much of the Zygerrian’s weight as he will allow (Rex’s instincts cannot agree on whether this is a slave or a slaver, whether he should protect or fight, and it's making him  _ anxious _ ).

There are still sounds from outside, but less; Rex had known this battle would be short, but it still feels strange that it was.

_ I want to be home, Soka, _ he thinks, wearily.

There's a soft twist of agreement.  _ This is such a disaster, all of it, _ she thinks. 

_ I know.  _ Rex thinks it should feel better that they're _ freeing slaves _ , but everything here feels  _ wrong wrong wrong _ and everywhere he turns something reminds him of old pain.

But the little boy, Miik, just a scrap of a thing with his big blue eyes - Rex is glad that, if they've done nothing else good today, they've helped him and his mother.

And they've killed his master, which Rex thinks he will  _ not _ speak to Jak about. Jak Ordo is not safe, today.

The colony is clear when they walk outside (and Rex feels the Zygerrian tense again), which means the battle is over and they've gotten the slaves out. What they're going to do with a whole colony of Zygerrian (and a few other sentients) slaves, Rex doesn't know, but he at least knows it was _ right _ to do this.

Miik looks at him again over Anakin's shoulder, and Rex smiles. The kid doesn't smile back, but he also doesn't bury his face in Anakin’s shoulder, so that's an improvement anyway.

The transport is waiting for them at the edge of the pit, and Rex is all too happy to climb on, help the slave he's supporting to grab onto one of the overhead straps with both hands. He leaves one hand on the man’s shoulder so he won't fall, even though he doesn't think even that is welcome. Too bad. The Zygerrian’s going to fall otherwise.

~~~

Anakin adjusts his grip on Miik so he can grab onto one of the overhead handles; he sends a brief thought to Ahsoka, asking her to head back down into the colony and pull collars from slaves (she flinches a little, he thinks, doesn’t seem very eager to do so, and he thinks Obi-Wan is going to end up doing it himself), tries not to think of Jak’s anger and the way the Force had  _ convulsed. _

Instead, he starts talking, trying to stave off the thoughts he doesn’t want to think about. “How old are you, Miik?”

The boy shifts, says, “Eight,” very quietly, and Anakin makes himself ignore the kid’s father.

Eight. Kriff, poor thing. “You know, I used to be a slave too,” Anakin says conversationally, tries to hide the way his throat chokes closed on the words. “To the Hutts, and then to Watto,” but he was basically the Hutts, really. “My mom and I lived on Tatooine. It’s really sandy there, and  _ hot. _ The Jedi came when I was nine and found me, brought me back to the Temple.”

Miik blinks up at him.  _ Oh, _ he thinks quietly, flattening his ears a little and looking over at his papa, uncertain. The older Zygerrian looks… nervous, looks  _ angry, _ looks like he does  _ not _ appreciate Anakin at all. Kriff. So he keeps talking. 

“Ahsoka and Rex, here,” and he nods at the Captain, “were captured by some of the masters and put in Kadavo--a processing facility. The queen made me her slave, for a while.” He looks over Miik’s head, locks eyes with his father. “We understand what it’s like, to be slaves.”

~~~

Rex thinks, very quickly, that somehow Anakin has said the wrong thing when the Zygerrian shudders and twitches away from him a little, and Rex has the sense to take his hand away, even though the Zygerrian isn't at all steady on his feet. The man casts him a fearful look, then looks back at Miik, clinging tight to Anakin, and Rex’s instincts tell him they've made a mistake.

“Leave him out of this,” the man says, voice cracking although he's clearly trying to sound strong. “Whatever sick game this is, don't make him part of it.”

“Papa?” Miik says, and his ears twist back against his head, which even Rex can tell means he's  _ worried _ .

But Rex understands now, and he steps past the man (can practically feel him flinch), says quietly to Anakin, “General, I think you better put him down.”

Anakin looks confused, although his eyes dart from Miik to his father and then back, and Rex thinks it won't take him long to figure it out. “Now, sir,” Rex says, more urgently, because they're going to panic the man and if he panics so will Miik and maybe the rest of the slaves on this transport.

But Anakin clearly doesn't want to let the kid out of his arms, which alright, Rex understands, but the boy’s father looks like he's barely holding it together, so Rex turns back to him and meets his eyes, steps away from Anakin a little. Miik’s father doesn't hold his gaze (and part of Rex is glad, because making eye contact with the Zygerrians means you get hurt), so Rex sighs and steps close enough to him that he can talk in a low voice, not so close that he's a threat. “We're not playing games here,  _ vod _ . We're not gonna do anything to your kid, okay? Or you. Take it easy.”

That gets him a defiant sneer,  _ almost  _ a baring of teeth, and Rex thinks that's at least good, that the man has this much fight left in him. “Then where's my wife? What’d you do to her, she's never been a slaver, she's not  _ part of this _ .”

_ Haar’chak _ , Rex forgot about that. They just need to get this one to a med bay, but he can't be panicking between times - Rex looks back at Miik and the boy looks like he's starting to  _ panic _ .

“I sent her back ahead of us with my padawan,” Anakin says, with a calm Rex has only heard in his voice a couple times - it's bordering on Force-suggestion, Rex thinks. “She needed medical attention because your master shocked her.”

“He promised she'd be safe, Papa,” Miik says, a little tremulously, and the Zygerrian closes his eyes briefly and Rex decides he's got to figure this  _ out _ because to a kid, a promise is a  _ promise _ , but to this man, it's barely even a consideration.

“Alright,  _ vod, _ come here.” Rex gestures, doesn't touch the man although he wants to offer support, and they take a few steps away into the transport, although the Zygerrian clearly doesn't want to get further from his son. “What's your name?” He remembers how that had helped Ahsri, helped  _ him _ . Names.

“Zarak,” the Zygerrian says, tense, and Rex sighs, nods.

“Okay. Look, Zarak, I don't really like your people.” It's an understatement, doesn't even begin to cover the anger and pain and visceral fear. “But I swear on my life, your family is safe. We got you out because we know no one deserves this,” he raises a hand to his neck, pulls down the collar of his blacks, “least of all children. So  _ calm down. _ ”

Zarak still doesn't look  _ alright _ with this, exactly, but Rex thinks he somehow did something  _ right _ because the man nods and some of the sharp tension shifts out of his shoulders.

~~~

The clone’s scars are all-too-familiar; they are the scars of Zarak’s own slaves, once upon a time, the scars he knows he would see on himself, now, were he to glance into a mirror. The Jedi doesn’t have such scars--but he’d said,  _ the queen’s slave, _ and Zarak doesn’t think the queen would have wished to mar such a handsome human slave with scars from prolonged punishment. No, she would’ve used something else against the Jedi, something not  _ physical, _ because all Zygerrians know of the Jedi’s famed  _ will. _ It is, or so the stories say, the will of the Jedi that allows them to perform feats such as moving great structures with their minds, such as enslaving another’s thoughts to their own, such as continuing long past their bodies’ natural limitations. Such a will isn’t easily broken.

Zarak would be a fool to trust these men, no matter the clone’s scars, no matter the fact that the soldier willingly bared his throat (though Zarak doesn’t think this one,  _ Rex _ he had been called, is being submissive--he thinks Rex is establishing them as  _ equals, _ which is a strange thought). No, he will not trust them, not until he sees his Alari with his own eyes, determines her to be safe and unharmed. Then, he and the Jedi will have a serious discussion, because  _ he’s Force-sensitive, _ and he  _ knows _ what happens to Force-sensitive children when the Jedi find them.

And he, Zarak Iscem, will  _ not lose his son. _

Zarak pushes past the clone, though he is weak and his legs shake from the effort, stops in front of the Jedi. He recognizes this Jedi’s face, from the holos (a slave he may be, but he has made certain to stay informed). “General Anakin Skywalker,” he says. “They call you the Hero With No Fear.”

Skywalker inclines his head, but though he  _ appears _ calm, his arms tighten around Miik. (If he wasn’t a Jedi, Zarak would think him to be  _ protective, _ almost.) “I hate that name,” he says, and Zarak tilts his head to one side, keeps his expression even, though he can  _ feel _ the fur on the back of his neck (or what’s left of it) rising. “It makes me sound like some kind of--legend, something  _ superhuman.” _ His face twists with distaste.

“You  _ are _ a Jedi,” Zarak points out.

Skywalker snorts. “Yeah, I am. And my two worst failings as a Jedi are my attachments and how much I’m afraid of losing them.” As he speaks, the Jedi’s arms tighten around Miik again, and Zarak narrows his eyes.

That is  _ his son. _

And then he frowns, his ears perking a little without him meaning to. “What do you mean, your attachments are your greatest failing?” He knows very little about the Jedi, admittedly, has never  _ cared _ to know, especially after what the Jedi and the Republic had done to Zygerria herself perhaps a year ago, but he doesn’t understand how so-called  _ attachments _ can be a failing. 

Skywalker smiles a little, a wry twist of his lips. “There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.” The words have the weight of ritual to them, the familiar, easy cadence of something long memorized. “The Jedi Code,” Skywalker continues. “Jedi are to exist in the world, yet remain untouched by it; we aren’t supposed to cultivate attachment, especially that of a romantic nature, so that we may have compassion for the whole of the galaxy equally, and weight no one single life greater than any others, greater than our duty.” He still almost sounds like he’s  _ reciting _ something, a teaching oft heard, perhaps. And then he lowers his voice, smirks a bit (Zarak forces himself not to recoil), as though he’s imparting some great secret: “Not that any of that stopped my wife and I.”

His--wife?

Skywalker’s face goes somber, grave, blue eyes intense. “When I tell you I  _ understand _ how afraid you are, right now, I’m telling the truth. I will not hurt your family. None of my men will.” He pauses, then adds, “Though I’d be careful of the Mandalorians. We still don’t know how loyal they are.”

All Zarak can do is nod, is think,  _ this Jedi has a wife. _ This one has a family, this one has been a slave, this one understands what it is like to  _ fear. _ “What happened to your mother?” he asks, voice soft, and he hadn’t meant to ask the question but this Jedi holds his son like the most precious thing in the galaxy.

Skywalker’s face goes tight, his voice flat. “She was kidnapped by raiders,” he says, simple, clinical, detached. “By the time I learned something was wrong, it was too late. I found her and cut her down just in time for her to die in my arms.”

Zarak looks at his son, at this Jedi, thinks of  _ I sent her back ahead of us with my padawan, she needed medical attention because your master shocked her, _ and he swallows, hard, suddenly finds it difficult to breathe. These are not the actions of a man seeking revenge.

No, this is a man attempting to make sure no one else suffers the same pains as he, and at this moment, Zarak thinks there is no safer place for his son to be than in this Jedi’s arms.

~~~

Miik watches his papa, because he's begun to think he's done something very wrong, very bad, because his papa seems  _ scared _ and Miik can’t totally understand what he and Anakin are talking about. But Anakin had promised and Miik had  _ known _ that Anakin meant it.

When Anakin says his mama is  _ dead _ , though, Miik frowns and presses his face into Anakin’s shoulder again.  _ I’m sorry your mama died, _ Miik thinks.

_ Thanks, kid _ .

Then Miik hears his papa sigh, and that usually means Miik’s done something stupid or his mama isn’t answering, again, or he’s tired, so Miik picks his head up from Anakin’s shoulder and looks at his papa, bites the inside of his cheek and hopes he’s not in trouble. But Papa just shakes his head a little at Miik, and that probably means he’s in for a scolding, but not in  _ trouble _ , which is good.

Then the ship  _ jolts _ , and Miik doesn’t mean to but he ducks his head back into Anakin’s shoulder, hears everyone else murmur a little.  _ You good to go, kid? We’ll get you to your mom _ , Anakin says, and Miik nods, doesn’t want to look up.

Anakin starts walking, and Miik reminds himself they’re going to his mama, and his papa is here, so this is fine. Peeking up, just for a second, from Anakin’s shoulder, he sees the soldier, Rex, with his arm around his papa, staying close to him, and his papa smiles at Miik just a little. So it’s fine, probably.

Everything slowly becomes  _ sound _ , people talking, loud feet, metal clanging and sharp, barked orders, and Miik needs to be  _ brave _ but he shivers because it’s so  _ loud _ and when he looks up his papa doesn’t look like he thinks this is a good idea and Miik wants to go back and sit in his corner and not  _ move _ .

_ Hey, bud, take it easy. _ Miik suddenly feels  _ calm _ and a little sleepy, and it’s nice, it helps.  _ We’re almost back to your mama, okay? But there are gonna be a lot of people _ .

Miik doesn’t  _ want _ a lot of people, at all, and this feels like such a big  _ mistake _ , but he swallows and shifts so he’s more upright, so he can look at his papa and make sure this is still  _ okay _ .

Papa nods and kind of smiles, and that helps a little, that means this is at least not  _ bad _ . Rex smiles again too, and Miik can’t decide how he feels about him, so he just looks back at Anakin and thinks,  _ I don’t like this _ .

_ Yeah, I know. Sorry _ .

Miik wants to go home, kind of, because home was  _ awful _ but at least he knew how it worked. This is all too new and there are soldiers  _ everywhere _ and humans and there’s a room ahead of him that’s full of the sounds of people scared and hurting, and the magic tells him that there’s a lot of pain that way and Miik doesn’t like that.

_ Your mama is in there, Miik, okay? _ And Anakin walks  _ towards _ that room, and Miik digs his claws into Anakin’s shoulder, accidentally, making the Jedi hiss a little. Oh no, oops.

_ Sorry! _ he thinks, a little frantically, and Anakin hums, out loud, almost like Miik remembers his mama used to do, before everything got worse.

_ It’s okay, really. _ They go through the door into the room and Miik cranes his head, looking for Mama (and he sees the man with the awful face glowering near the wall, with the other Jedi, Ahsoka, next to him. Miik thinks there’s  _ blood _ on the soldier’s arms, and when he notices that Anakin quickly says, “Hey, Miik, look, your mama is over there.”

Miik forgets the soldier in a hurry, stretches as high up as he can and follows Anakin’s pointing finger to see his mama, lying on a bed, sleeping and not looking nearly as worried as she usually does when she’s asleep.

“Mama!” he says, louder than he means to, and wriggles out of Anakin’s grasp (also without quite meaning to) and runs across the floor.

“Miik!” his papa  _ yells _ , and he  _ stops _ , winces, slows down until his papa and Rex catch up to him, dropping his ears and tilting his head to apologize. He knows better. “What do we say, Miik?” his papa says, softly, and Miik sighs.

“I know, sorry. Rule five, we stay together.” Miik has broken a lot of Papa’s rules today.

“Okay.” His papa straightens, and Miik scoots back to grab onto his hand and  _ pull _ because alright, they stay together, but he wants to get to Mama  _ now _ .

~~~

Ahsoka straightens, looks up, when she senses Anakin enter the medbay; Jak is mostly nonresponsive, anyway, locked up in his own head. There are crimson bloodstains splashed bright and fresh across his armor, and his single grey eye is laser-sharp focused on some distant thing. She doesn’t really want to know what he’s seeing (doesn’t want to know what could cause so much  _ rage, _ so much violence).

Besides, Anakin is back, with a pair of Zygerrians, one of them the little boy, Miik--the other an older man she suspects to be Miik’s father. That’s not what she’s most interested in, though: behind Anakin is Rex, shoulders slumped a little, helmet clipped to his belt, half-supporting the older Zygerrian. She smiles a little (can feel the way the memories are circling his mind like loth-wolves intent on their prey), pushes herself off the wall she’s leaning against, strides across the medbay, careful to avoid the suddenly appearing obstacle of just over a meter of excited Zygerrian cub.

_ Hey, Rex, _ she thinks, stepping to his free side, noticing the way the Zygerrian flinches a little. “Your wife is just over there,” she says, indicates the corner. “Kix did some work on her, but he’ll want to look at you.” The guy has multiple fresh whip burns across his back and shoulders and arm and side, and he looks weak, exhausted.

_ Hey, ‘Soka, _ Rex sends back, and she follows him as he helps the Zygerrian over to the corner of the medbay and into a plastoid chair.

As soon as his arms are free, she tugs Rex into a hug, presses her face into his neck and closes her eyes, projects warmth and love and reassurance, chases away the memories.  _ There are too many Zygerrians here, _ she admits quietly, takes a shaky breath. She  _ knows _ these ones aren’t guards, necessarily, aren’t going to hurt her, can’t take Rex away, she  _ knows _ they have no power over her, but every time she accidentally meets a pair of slanted, sharp eyes her scars burn, phantom pain stabbing through her hands from wounds a year old.

She knows Rex understands, better than anyone else could, and she wraps herself in his love, luxuriates in the  _ safety _ of his arms solid and steady around her.

~~~

Rex sighs and closes his eyes, tries not to hug Ahsoka too tight because his armor will dig into her skin, but he’s struggling, and she’s safety. Being with his General had made it easier, not to mind so much, and he can still see some of his men here being treated or making sure all the chaos stays controlled and no one gets violent, but there are still so  _ many _ sharp faces here, gold eyes, and he  _ knows _ these people were slaves too, but that doesn’t really change anything. Or at least, not enough. Hells, he can barely even manage looking at  _ Zarak _ .

_ I know this was right,  _ he thinks, wearily,  _ but it feels like a mistake, Soka. I don’t… don’t want them here _ . That’s selfish, probably, but Rex has wanted nothing more than to  _ run _ since the got here and it’s no easier now.

_ I know. Me neither _ , she admits, and he sighs, traces some of the scars on her back headtail and swallows.

_ Are the mando’ade doing okay? Jak?  _ Rex doesn’t really trust the Mandalorians with this; the 501st and the 212th will obey their orders and not hurt the slaves, but he knows the Death Watch will do what they want, and Jak worries him.

_ I don’t know, Jak is scaring me, _ Ahsoka says, projects a snippet of memory of how angry and dangerous Jak had felt.

Rex sighs and opens his eyes again, catches Anakin’s gaze and attempts something like a smile.  _ The kid is really cute, _ Rex thinks.  _ Anakin likes him _ .

Ahsoka snorts and pulls back a little, locking her fingers around the back of his neck, and she grins although her eyes still look haunted. Rex tries to ease love over her thoughts, to keep her focused on him and on right now. That would be easier if he wasn’t struggling himself.  _ Yeah, he seems sweet, _ Soka says, and Rex twists and follows her eyes to Miik sitting on his mother’s bunk, stick-thin legs pulled up to his chest, his ragged shirt pulled over his knees.

Zarak is  _ looking _ at them and Rex wants desperately to yank away from Ahsoka and back off because this isn’t  _ allowed _ , but Zarak just looks exhausted and he’s holding his wife’s hand, so Rex reminds himself this is fine, this is safe.

_ I like him too _ , Rex thinks. He’d much rather have left his helmet on, but the kid had been  _ scared _ , and Rex had known it was more important for that boy to feel safe than for him to feel a little more comfortable.  _ His father is… not so bad. I think. _ Rex doesn’t  _ like _ Zarak exactly, but at least the Zygerrian clearly cares about his family, and Rex understands that, at least.

~~~

Ahsoka hums a bit, nods, stretches up onto her tiptoes to kiss him--lightly, since they’re in the middle of a crowd of strangers. She pulls back, traces her fingers over the worried creases in his face, as though she could soothe them away by her touch alone.  _ I’m sure he’s… okay, _ she says, carefully,  _ but I just… I don’t know, Rex. _

Rex sighs, pulls one hand from around her to ghost over the white markings on her face, and she closes her eyes, leans into his touch.  _ I know, cyare, I know. We’ll be okay, though. We’re safe. _ He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he is her.

_ Just… stay with me, _ she thinks, tries not to plead, opening her eyes and looking up at him.  _ I don’t--being alone isn’t a good--I don’t trust myself. _ She remembers Agruss, how she so  _ easily _ fell into that cold cold anger, hatred, killing without remorse,  _ laughing _ while she did it, so easy, so powerful, so  _ fluid, _ and she shudders, closes her eyes tight and swallows hard around a whimper.

_ Shh, ‘Soka, _ Rex hums softly, and he presses his forehead against hers.  _ You won’t snap, you won’t turn on them. I trust you. _

_ But how do you  _ **_know?_ ** she asks, shaky, sucks in a shuddering breath and tries to forget the  _ ice. _

_ Because I know you, _ and he pulls back, presses light kisses to each of her montrals, to her forehead.

“Excuse me, but how exactly are you communicating with each other?”

For a moment, the only thing that registers is  _ Zygerrian, _ and Ahsoka  _ freezes, _ flinches, snaps around with one hand already going to her belt, because  _ no, _ she can’t, she won’t, they can’t take this too--but Rex soothes soft reassurance and warm love over her thoughts, and she lets out a trembling sigh, closes her eyes briefly, leans into Rex’s shoulder, leaves him to answer. 

She doesn’t think she  _ can. _

~~~

Rex keeps a hum of  _ peace _ easing across the bond and looks at Zarak, regrets a little the sudden  _ fear _ on the Zygerrian’s face, because Rex knows Ahsoka going for her saber will have been a little too much. He doesn’t particularly want to explain because if he does he could  _ lose it _ but that’s not  _ true _ anymore. Rex threads his fingers through Soka’s hand that still hovers over her sabers and sighs.

“There’s… we can talk in each other’s thoughts,” he says, sounds more anxious than he wishes he did. Soka tightens her fingers in his. “And she isn’t going to hurt you, remember, I promised we wouldn’t, Zarak.” The Zygerrian never promised anything, though.

“You can do that too?” Miik says, eagerly, then very quickly drops his head and winces because Zarak gives him a sharp look. Rex soothes his hand over Ahsoka’s montrals and smiles at Miik.

“Yeah, kid.”

“What do you mean  _ too _ ?” Zarak growls, and Rex does  _ not like _ that voice. Soka doesn’t either, at all, and she presses closer to Rex, her hand going shaky in his, and Rex holds her tighter, feels Anakin’s thoughts a little bit as his General tries to help soothe Soka. That will help, Rex thinks.

Miik’s ears twitch a little and droop, and he rubs his nose. “Well, I… I don’t know, Papa, but I can talk to Anakin without actually talking. I didn’t  _ mean _ to, but it’s kind of cool.”

Zarak actually  _ bares his teeth _ at Anakin, he’s actually  _ angry _ , and Rex glances at Anakin, who winces a little and holds his hands out, almost like  _ don’t blame me _ . “Stay out of my son’s  _ head _ ,  _ Jedi _ ,” and Rex  _ thinks _ Zarak’s body language says he’s scared, but he just sounds  _ dangerous _ and if Rex is being honest, that’s fair, completely, but Ahsoka goes so, so still except for the trembling and Rex shifts his focus off Zarak, tries to soothe her a little.

“I didn’t get  _ in _ his head,” Anakin says, carefully. “He reached out to me, I just answered.”

Zarak pushes himself to his feet, and Rex automatically steps back, tugs Ahsoka with him. “ _ Bantha shit,  _ Jedi. What reason do I have to believe you?” and it’s harsh and threatened and desperate and Rex doesn’t have quite the control to be able to keep from flinching, much less to keep pressing calm through Ahsoka’s thoughts, and when Zarak speaks she  _ tenses _ and there’s a general impression of  _ no, too much _ in her mind.

“Rex,” she says, soft and anxious, and she’s starting to breathe fast and Rex shifts so he’s a little between her and Zarak, although  _ that _ feels so, so wrong. “Rex, I can’t, I can’t  _ do this _ .”

“Okay,” Rex says gently, quickly, swallowing and moving again so he’s totally blocking her from Zarak’s view. He curls himself around her, slides into her thoughts and pulls up tighter shields.  _ Okay, cyare, you’re okay. I have you. We can go, it’ll be fine _ .

~~~

She doesn’t  _ mean _ to start crying, really she doesn’t. But the ambient Force of the medbay is packed full of anger and rage and fear and disgust and  _ pain, _ and even with strong shields she can’t block it all totally out, and her instincts are  _ screaming _ that she’s got her back to an entire room full of hostiles, and she’s spent a while now trying to talk Jak  _ down, _ even though that’s been a futile task. And with the Zygerrian, Zarak, being  _ angry, _ it’s all just  _ too much. _

Her shoulders are shaking, her breaths ragged and too fast, and there are tears spilling down her cheeks, and her muscles are caught between a desperate need to  _ flee, _ to run, and the instinct to  _ freeze, _ because stillness is safety, stillness is unthreatening, is  _ safe, _ is  _ don’t look at me, _ and she--she can’t--

“Rex,” she gasps out again, trying desperately to pull her thoughts  _ together, _ but she can’t manage it, everything’s too scattered and fragmented and a part of her hears the way the Zygerrian’s (Zarak, his name is Zarak) voice  _ growls _ and he’s  _ standing _ and she can’t keep from panicking, from cringing away,  _ please don’t master please don’t, _ but this isn’t Kadavo, she has to remember, this isn’t--this is the  _ Resolute, _ she’s safe here--but the Zygerrian  _ moves _ and she can’t stifle a soft whimper, a bolt of terror, and she presses her face into Rex’s chest and  _ shakes. _

“Rex, get her  _ out of here,” _ Anakin says, sharply, pushes a wave of calm, of reassurance, at her, but there’s too  _ much _ spiraling around and--and she’s hyperventilating and, and, “Snips,  _ calm down.” _

The Force flows over her, rippling and soft and calm, fluid, and she struggles to breathe around it, shakes her head, because someone behind her moves and there’s a spike of  _ adrenaline, _ something in her hissing  _ never turn your back to an enemy, _ and she can’t  _ breathe, _ she can’t, she  _ can’t, please help me Rex please I can’t stop-- _

_ Easy, ‘Soka, _ Rex soothes, and she clings desperately to his mind like he’s a rock in the ocean, something steady to grab onto as waves of  _ panic _ buffet her.  _ Easy, cyare, I’ve got you, _ and his arms are around her--she’s moving--he’s picking her up, and she buries her head in his chest, even though the plastoid of his armor is uncomfortable, grabs onto his pauldron so hard she feels plastoid crack beneath her fingers. (She thinks maybe the Force is helping.)

She can’t  _ breathe. _

It feels like she’s choking on the maelstrom of thoughts tumbling around her mind, knotting up in her throat and keeping her from getting a full breath in, and she hears someone--Anakin--say,  _ “Go, _ Rex,” and then he’s moving, and she flinches and presses her face harder against him. Someone else says something but she can’t understand the words, there’s too  _ much, _ and she’s so  _ tired _ of holding up so many shields and there’s too much seeping in and she  _ can’t breathe, _ there’s black spots around the edge of her vision when she opens her eyes, colors swirling across the backs of her eyelids, and she grabs desperately at Rex,  _ I can’t, can’t breathe, please, please help! _

She  _ can’t. _

~~~

Rex lets Ahsoka keep gripping his pauldron as he hurries out of the medbay, although he thinks he’ll need a new one after this, but that’s not exactly  _ important _ just now. Rex tries to keep his shields around her thoughts, doesn’t run because if he runs he thinks he’ll make it worse and he won’t be able to focus enough to keep projecting - he gave up on projecting calm and he’s trying love, because he thinks that helps more, but he doesn’t  _ know _ and she doesn’t feel right. He needs to get her back to his quarters,  _ away  _ from this mess.

And he needs to get her breathing right, because she’s heaving for breath but it doesn’t seem to be helping and she’s  _ sobbing _ , so he takes a risk and shuts out everything but the most basic awareness of where he is and presses into her thoughts, to the part of her that’s clinging desperately to his mind, so hard it almost  _ hurts _ , and he doesn’t try to calm her down (Anakin had tried and that hadn’t worked), just thinks  **_breathe_ ** _ , Soka _ . The rhythm of his own breathing isn’t the best either, he’s in too much of a hurry and too worried, but it’s a better pace than hers, so he puts his fingers over hers on his pauldron.  _ Breathe with me, okay? _ He has to repeat that a few times, pushing a little awareness at her, before she seems to pick up on it, and she shifts her hand from his shoulder to his chest.

“Okay, that’s good, you’re okay,” he says, more or less not thinking about it. He’s back to his quarters by the time her breathing has actually evened out to match his, and he eases back from her thoughts just enough that he can actually get the door open, get them inside. He manages to toe his boots off, but he can’t get rid of any more armor without letting go of Soka and he’s  _ not _ doing that, not now that she’s actually breathing okay, and she  _ needs him _ . “Can we lay down, is that okay?” There isn’t much of a response, just her holding on even tighter to his mind (and now that  _ definitely _ hurts but he has other priorities), so he takes that as a yes and gets in bed, tries to shift her a little in his arms so it’s more comfortable for her, except she just kind of whimpers and grabs his arm with her free hand. “Okay,” Rex says, knows she probably isn’t really  _ listening _ . He settles back against the wall at the head of the bed and tightens his arms around her. He’s really not sure whether this is helping, especially since he’s still in full armor, and she’s still crying and not really focusing. “That wasn’t great,” he sighs, kisses her lightly on the forehead. “Actually, this is all really awful. But we’re kind of okay now, it’s just me.” He wants to add  _ and I’m kriffing scared _ but that is the  _ opposite _ of helpful.

He lets go of her with one arm, leans forward, grabs the blanket and pulls it over both of them because at least that might be more comfortable than just him and his armor. “You should maybe just go to sleep,” he sighs, traces the patterns on her headtails. “Hells,  _ I _ should go to sleep.” Talking helps him, if not her. He’s worried and he feels a little isolated and everything  _ is _ awful. Kriff all of this.

…

Miik doesn’t know what’s happening, really, except this is all  _ really bad _ . His papa was angry, and now Anakin feels angry, and Rex and the other Jedi, Ahsoka are gone because it almost seems like Ahsoka was  _ sick _ and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do.

“It really was me, I think, Papa,” he says, tentatively, twisting his hands together. “I was just scared.”

His papa looks over at him and Miik doesn’t understand why he looks so  _ scared _ suddenly, but his ears are  _ flat _ and he’s got his throat bared to Anakin and Miik thinks it’s because Anakin is  _ angry _ . Suddenly Miik thinks he understands  _ why _ Anakin is mad, feels like maybe Ahsoka was  _ terrified  _ and Anakin doesn’t want that.

“That was your fault,” Anakin growls, and Miik’s papa flinches, just a little.

_ Anakin, don’t, _ Miik thinks, although he doesn’t  _ mean to _ \- thinking is so much harder to control, Miik is better at talking out loud. Or not talking at all.  _ I’m sorry, I- Please don’t? _

Anakin grits his teeth, stares at Miik’s papa, but he feels a little less upset. “You should have seen,” Anakin says, more quietly, and shakes his head and looks away.

Papa swallows and sits back down, his ears staying down. Miik doesn’t  _ like _ this. He grabs his mama’s shirt and sighs.  _ Anakin, what was wrong with her? Ahsoka? _

Anakin pinches his weird human nose and takes a step back, away from his papa, which is good because Papa doesn’t look good to Miik.  _ She was really scared, Miik, sometimes… Look, kid, Zygerrians freak her out. _

Oh. Well, Jedi freak Miik out, and apparently his Papa too.  _ Why? _

_ I told you, some of your masters made her into a slave. _

_ Okay _ . Miik  _ thinks _ he understands that, because he is terrified of his master most of the time.  _ That’s not Papa’s fault _ .

_ I  _ **_know._ **

Miik’s papa still looks bad, so Miik scrambles off the bunk and onto Papa’s lap, tucks his knees back under his chin.

“We should get them both food,” someone says, the soldier that had come over when Ahsoka panicked. Miik thinks this human has cool markings on his head, and for some reason he also thinks he’s  _ nice _ . Not that he knows, but the magic says so, and Miik thinks the magic usually knows what it’s doing. Usually.

Also, food sounds like the  _ best idea _ . Miik hasn’t eaten his meal for the day yet and he’s glad someone has thought of that.  _ I am hungry _ , he volunteers, carefully.  _ I haven’t eaten yet today _ .

~~~

Ahsoka curls tight around Rex’s arm, still sobbing against him; she can feel his fingers running along her headtails, tracing out patterns, and she thinks vaguely that that should feel more comforting than it does. He’s talking, something about sleeping, and she doesn’t  _ want _ to sleep, she just--she--

She doesn’t  _ know _ what she wants, doesn’t really know much, just that there’s  _ too much _ in her thoughts, and--

And she thinks she’s hurting Rex.

Ahsoka pulls back from his mind, just a tiny bit, tries to stop pressing so hard into his thoughts, though it’s  _ hard, _ and she lets the rhythm of his words, his hands on her back, his breathing (and she has to match it, has to, he said to  _ breathe with me), _ lull her into a state of almost false-security. She’s not  _ calm, _ at all, but she’s at least… she’s no longer spiraling down into endless  _ panic. _ Still, she can’t stop the tears, can’t  _ stop crying, _ and that’s almost enough to send her back into the storm, but Rex soothes love over her mind, hums  _ it’s okay, Soka, it’s okay, _ and she chokes a breath in and sobs and sobs and sobs. 

This  _ isn’t Kadavo. _

Somehow, she can’t quite convince her body of that; maybe it’s the position, curled up against Rex with a blanket around them, the Zygerrians all over the ship, the Force still heavy with pain and anger. But she’s still somehow hyperaware of everything, ready to bolt, and she thinks Rex feels that because he keeps very still, no sudden movements.  _ I love you, _ she thinks, because that’s the only solid ground, that’s the only thing she  _ knows, _ the only thing that makes sense,  _ I love you, love you, love you… _

He holds her close, still talking (she’s not sure what he’s saying, not paying attention to the words--he’s slipped into Mando’a now, a steady stream of liquid syllables), the steady rhythm reassuring, comforting, and she shakes in his arms and tries to  _ breathe _ and cries and clings to his arm.  _ (I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe, cyare, nothing’s going to hurt you.) _

…

Food, right, that’s a good idea. Anakin sighs, resists the urge to check on Ahsoka, nods. “Yeah, thanks, Kix. Can you--” and he gestures vaguely with one hand, scrubs the other across his face.

“No, I  _ can’t,” _ Kix snaps, his voice edged with sharp stress. “I’m a bit busy,” and he huffs out a sigh. “Couldn’t we have waited to do this until  _ after Grievous?” _

Anakin winces. It’s not like he had much of a  _ choice. _ “I’d like to see  _ you _ try and stop kriffing Jak Ordo,” he snaps back, and then groans, grits his teeth.  _ None _ of them are handling this well, and he can feel Ahsoka’s panic leaking across their bond, and the ambient Force of the medbay is  _ thick _ with negative emotions, and… kriff. He’s going to end up in the same boat as his former padawan if he doesn’t  _ get it together. _ “Sorry, Kix,” and he lets out a long breath, runs his hands through his hair. “I’m… yeah.”

“I know,  _ vod,” _ and Kix groans too. “The Force is…”

“Yeah.” Anakin looks over at Miik.  _ Do you feel it too, kid? _

Miik nods, his ears flattening a little bit.  _ Can we go somewhere else? _

“Yeah, come on, we can go to the mess.” And then he hesitates. “If that’s okay with your papa. We’ll all feel better  _ away _ from this.” (Away from Jak, who is an awful knot of anger and pain and  _ hatred _ in the corner.)

Zarak doesn’t really look  _ pleased, _ but he glances down at his wife and then nods once, shortly, and Anakin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Come on, you two, let’s get you some food.”

“Bring  _ him _ back after,” Kix calls out, already crossing the medbay to do something else. “I want to get some bacta on those burns.”

“Copy that,” Anakin says, smiles down at Miik, tries to push away the nervousness in the pit of his stomach. (Ahsoka is still panicking.) “Do you want me to carry you, or are you okay to walk, Miik?”

~~~

Miik just wants to get some food and get away from all the awful feelings in this room, so he slides off his papa’s lap and grabs for his hand. “I can walk,” he says. He thinks his papa might need him, which is a little worrying because it’s always been that Papa is strongest, then Miik, then his mama needs both of them. His papa stands, and they follow Anakin through all the beds and the other slaves and the soldiers, past the awful scarred human, out the door, and Miik sighs. This is better, he thinks.

“We’ll get you guys some real food and water,” Anakin says, and Miik hopes no one can hear how loudly his stomach growls. It’s  _ embarrassing _ , and the kind of thing that always annoyed his master - which he thinks he doesn’t have to care about anymore, but it’s hard not to.

This ship is the first  _ real _ ship Miik’s ever been in, and he ends up lagging behind his papa a little because he can’t stop  _ looking _ at everything, all the silver and grey, everything clean and cool. There are still too many soldiers out here, but he feels better - the magic feels calmer and Anakin feels amused for some reason. It’s all so  _ different _ , but Miik doesn’t think… doesn’t think it’s bad. Mostly. He’s still a little afraid, but also.

He gets to  _ eat _ . And he  _ thinks _ he might get to eat more than gruel. Which would be really,  _ really _ cool.

Anakin suddenly laughs and turns around, and Miik looks at him, surprised.

“Yeah, Miik, you get more than gruel. We have toast, and sandwiches, and  _ uj _ cake, and nerfburgers, and I  _ think _ we even have some havla somewhere.”

Miik doesn’t even know what most of that  _ is _ , but Anakin’s eyes twinkle like it’s exciting, and Miik thinks it all sounds exciting and exotic and new and a  _ lot _ better than gruel. “Really?” he says.

“Really.”

Miik clings tighter to his papa’s hand, grins up at him. This might be the best thing that’s  _ ever _ happened to him!

…

It feels like it takes ages (although it doesn’t, really) before Ahsoka’s thoughts clinging to Rex’s gain more coherency and he senses vague confusion. Which is reasonable, since he’s currently talking about all the many reasons he thinks Hero With No Fear is a really stupid holodrama. It’s mostly so she has his voice to concentrate on, and he’s not really sure if it’s helped but she’s paying attention to him now, so it doesn’t matter so much why.

“Hey,” he says, shifts a little and stills his hand on her headtail. His mouth is dry.  _ I’ve told you, I really don’t like that holo _ .

_ You’re ridiculous _ , she thinks, sounds  _ tired _ . Rex snorts.

_ I am not. _ He sighs and goes back to tracing the stripes on her headtails, and she lets go of his arm. Rex notes, with some surprise, that his vambrace is dented.  _ If you wanted my armor off, Soka, you just had to ask _ .

_ Sorry _ .

Rex shrugs, reaches around her shoulder and starts unbuckling the piece, glad to get it off.  _ It’s fine _ , he says.  _ It’s armor, shit happens to it all the time _ .  _ You didn’t even mess up the paint job, anyway _ .

Soka wrinkles her nose a little at him, although he can tell she still feels bad. Rex thinks if this were Phase One armor this would not have happened. With a quiet sigh, he drops the armor on the floor and starts on his pauldron (which is  _ also _ cracked, which is  _ also  _ because Phase Two armor is total shit). He projects that a little, because he can tell Soka feels guilty, and  _ also _ , maybe now she’ll get why he doesn’t  _ like _ Phase Two.

_ It’s just as poky as Phase One _ , she grumbles, and Rex rolls his eyes and get his pauldron free, drops it on the floor too.

_ I don’t think they designed it with cuddling in mind, Soka _ .

_ Well, they should have. _

_ Who were you calling ridiculous? _ Rex nudges at her to scoot off his lap, and when she (reluctantly) does, he works at the rest of his armor. His fingers are clumsier than he wishes they were but he’s done this a thousand times. He shouldn’t just toss everything on the floor, that would waste precious time if he needed to be ready to fight but he is  _ tired _ and uncomfortable and he just wants it  _ off _ . Technically, he should change his blacks too, because he feels  _ disgusting, _ but he doesn’t want to take the time for that. He can use the ‘fresher later. When he drops the last piece of armor on the floor and relaxes a little, Soka twists her arms around his torso and he takes a deep breath.  _ Happy now? _

_ Yeah, actually _ .

Rex sends an impression, kind of a rumble and a  _ hmph, well, me too _ . He eases down to lay on one side, forcing away a wince. Ahsoka starts lying down too, and Rex feels a flicker of annoyance, which he doesn’t get at first until he also catches the edge of a thought that she wishes he’d lay on his back so she can use him as a pillow.  _ I rest my case, ner’jetii. Ridiculous _ .

_ You’re more ridiculous, _ she grumbles, and Rex projects a threat that maybe he just won’t let her use him as a pillow - which is a useless threat since he’s already shifting over onto his back and pulling her into his arms.  _ Also, you stink _ .

_ Shut  _ up _ , Soka. _ He sighs and curls his hand over her montrals, takes another deep breath and lets it out slow.  _ You need to sleep _ .

He feels she knows that, so he doesn’t push it, just settles more, tries to let the tension sift out of his back into the mattress of his bunk. She twists her fingers in the fabric of his blacks and hooks her leg around both of his, and Rex accidentally lets slip a comparison that she’s like a kriffing starfish.

_ Don’t say anything, I’m tired, _ he thinks.  _ You’re not a starfish, you’re very impressive. _

_ Shut up _ .

Rex grumbles out loud and rolls his eyes - but lets it go because he should probably sleep if he’s making stupid animal comparisons. He shifts a little, closes his eyes, tightens his arms around her and evens out his breathing. Rest, rest is good.

_ Love you, Soka _ .

_ Love you too. Kriffing shut up _ .


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back again with more of our new characters and some DRAMA because we can! Welcome to the Battle of Utapau revised where Cody doesn't try to kill Obi and Anakin isn't off killing children!

There are crimson bloodstains on his armor. Perhaps that should be more concerning, Jak thinks, but this is hardly the first time he’s had  _ tal _ on his  _ beskar’gam, _ and it will certainly not be the last.

The only thing special about _these_ _haastale_ is the miserable being whose _tal_ it is.

One of the miserable worms who dared call themselves his  _ owner _ is dead, choked to death by his own whip.

And now, Jak cannot  _ stop thinking. _

He hadn’t expected it to be this  _ hard, _ seeing a master after so long; he hadn’t expected the memories to be so thick, to cloud his mind like fog, too thick to chase away. He had thought this would  _ help, _ thought  _ skira _ would make things  _ right, _ but instead he just feels… hollow. Angry, and hurting, and  _ tired, _ and hollow. 

He sits in the corner of the medbay, staring at his gauntleted hands--earlier, he’d watched a spot on the wall while the memories played like holos across his vision, but after the  _ jetii _ Tano had panicked, he’d looked down at his hands, knowing he is partially at fault for her  _ chaab. _ He hadn’t wanted to meet anyone’s gaze, not that he expected anyone to wish to look at  _ him. _ (He shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the  _ jetii _ is panicking because of him. She is a  _ jetii, _ he doesn’t  _ care _ about  _ jetii.) _

(He’s still twisted up by it.)

He clings to the stillness, the mission-silence, the ice, wraps it close until it burns, until the shatter-sharp edges of the ice are cutting deep into his palms, and he doesn’t let it go, because he thinks if he lets go now he will break. Ice is cold, ice is strong, but ice is  _ brittle, _ and ice  _ breaks. _ Ice shatters into a million glitter-dust fragments, sharper than diamond motes, and he cannot afford to break.

Not yet. Not while the  _ Mand’alor _ needs him. Not while the  _ jetiise _ want him to fight.

So he stays still, stays silent, stares at his hands and the blood and  _ does not move, _ he does not shatter, hardly even  _ breathes, _ because stillness is safety and safety is  _ survival _ and survival is  _ everything. _

~~~

There are so many people in the mess that Miik thinks if Anakin hadn’t promised him  _ food _ he would definitely go find a corner to sit in until everyone left. But he is  _ hungry _ , and most of the soldiers aren’t paying attention to him (and Miik hadn’t been aware, before, that humans all looked  _ so much _ alike, and all so  _ weird _ ).

He clings onto Papa’s hand and they follow Anakin past a few tables over by the wall, where Anakin hefts him up onto a bench and pulls out a chair for his papa before sitting down himself. Their table is empty except for three human soldiers, who are looking at Miik and his papa in a way that Miik decides he doesn’t like.

“Uh, hey General,” one of them says, “What the hell?”

Miik’s papa stares down at the table, but Miik stares at the human because he has  _ red hair _ and the brightest colors on his armor that Miik has ever  _ seen _ . He doesn’t even know what’s going on and he is  _ hungry _ and he isn’t sure whether to be nervous or excited but Anakin still feels amused so this is probably fine.

“It’s a long story, Brii,” Anakin says. “Can you go get us a couple plates of food, just whatever we have?”

The soldier starts standing up, but one of the others, a human with longer hair, makes him sit back down. “I’ll get one of the shinies to do it,” he says, smirking a little. “Hey, ‘43!”

Miik watches, fascinated despite himself, as another soldier comes over and the long-haired one orders him to go get food, which Miik is  _ definitely _ happy about, except he’s confused how this all  _ works _ . He rests his chin on his hand and tries not to scratch at his neck.  _ Was that human a slave? _

**_No._** Anakin’s answer is _loud_ in Miik’s head and Miik pins his ears back, annoyed.

“You’re too  _ loud _ ,” he grumbles, and his papa frowns and the other humans do too.

“‘43 is just new to the battalion,” Anakin says, like that makes  _ any _ sense. Miik doesn’t even know what  _ battalion _ means. “The boys like messing with the new recruits.”

“In our defense,” the third soldier says, “they are  _ really _ easy to fool.” He has no hair, at all, and a lot more markings on his face than the other humans. Miik thinks humans don’t make  _ sense _ . How is he supposed to know what they’re thinking if their ears never even move? How do they even  _ hear _ anything?

_ I’m hungry _ , Miik thinks, and Anakin turns and raises an eyebrow at him.

_ I got that idea, kid, we’re working on it. _

Miik can’t help being worried that there’s not going to be  _ enough _ food, or that there won’t be any at all, but Anakin told him there would be and he believes Anakin, so he keeps staring at the humans because they are  _ weird _ and he tries to be patient, to pretend he’s in his corner and he can just be still and quiet and no one will pay any attention to him.

~~~

The kid is  _ cute. _

Like, okay, he’s  _ Zygerrian, _ which is… weird, if Brii’s being honest, and also more than a little, well… he’s a bit nervous about this, because  _ Zygerrians, _ he’s seen the Captain and the Commander’s scars and the way they panicked in the tunnel and--but the kid is kriffing  _ adorable. _

So of  _ course _ Brii has to pull his sketchbook out and start sketching him. He grins at the kid (ha, now his  _ vod’e _ and his  _ traat’aliit _ can’t call him kid anymore, with this  _ vaar’ika _ scampering around the ship), then looks at General Skywalker, because he’s kriffing  _ doing the thing. _ The thing the Captain and the Commander always do. “General, sir,” he says, and General Skywalker frowns. “You’re  _ doing the thing.” _

The General blinks. “What thing?”

His  _ ori’vod _ starts laughing, says, “Brii, probably  _ not the time--” _

“The mind-thing the Captain and the Commander always do!” Brii grins bigger, adds a few more lines to his sketch. “Where they start arguing inside their heads and then yell at each other out loud and nobody has  _ any kriffing clue _ what’s going on.” Except Kix. Kix  _ always knows. _ He has  _ no idea _ how. “And it’s  _ really confusing _ and also really funny--”

_ “Ori’vod, _ shut  _ up,” _ Tup says, rolls his eyes. “We’ve got to at least  _ pretend _ to be professional, here.”

Jesse snorts. “What the kriff have you been  _ drinking, _ Tup? We’re  _ Skywalker’s battalion, _ we aren’t  _ professional--” _ and he closes his mouth firmly when the General  _ glares. _

“Kriff you, Jesse, I take offense at that! I’m very  _ professional--” _

“Senator Amidala,” Brii says, smirks.

The General does a remarkable impression of a fish, his mouth gaping open and slamming closed multiple times in a row.

“You should sketch that,” Tup suggests, and Brii tilts his head to one side, considering.

“He looks like a fish.”

The General gets even  _ more _ fishlike at that, and Jesse starts  _ cackling. _ “You  _ do, _ General, that’s kriffing  _ impressive.” _

Brii thinks he just might have a new caricature idea. From the look on the General’s face, he’s thinking the same thing, and  _ not liking it. _ “Brii, I swear, if I find caricatures of my face on this kriffing ship--”

“Oh, don’t worry, sir,” Brii says, with a bright, obviously  _ not _ innocent smile, “I’ll make sure you don’t find them.”

~~~

Miik is… Miik is confused, but he’s  _ thrilled _ . There’s so much  _ smiling _ , and  _ laughing _ , and Miik isn’t totally sure everyone is being friendly but it all feels  _ amazing _ .

It just gets better when the other human comes back with three whole platefuls of food that Miik has never seen in his life, but all of which look better than gruel.  _ Woah _ , he thinks, and Anakin laughs. “Thanks, ‘43.”

Anakin pushes an  _ entire plate of food _ in front of Miik and Miik’s eyes go wide and he can only  _ stare _ . This is not  _ real _ , definitely not - all of this has been too good to be true, but  _ this _ . He reaches out, hesitantly, waits until Anakin pushes another plate in front of his papa.

All of this food is for  _ him? _

“Go slow, kid,” Anakin says, and Miik does, because he’s a little afraid if he moves too fast he’ll wake up and it’ll be gone. His papa is eating already, chewing carefully, small bites, and when Miik glances at him he smiles a little.

“Eat.”

Miik grabs onto the best-looking thing on his plate, something meaty that smells  _ amazing _ , and tears into it before remembering he’s supposed to go slow but  _ wow _ . He didn’t know anything in the  _ world _ could taste this good. “Papa, you should try this!” he says, excitedly, and his papa’s mouth twitches up just a little more.

“I will,” he says, gruffly, and Miik takes another big bite. He is  _ definitely  _ imagining all this but he doesn’t even  _ care _ . The humans, Tup and Jesse and Brii, are all staring at him, and he still doesn’t really like that but as long as they keep feeding him, they can be as weird as they want.

~~~

Miik’s mind is  _ full _ of awe, and Anakin can’t stop himself from grinning at the feeling--he  _ knows _ Tup and Brii and Jesse are placing bets on something, can tell by the way the three of them are laughing and whispering together, but at this moment he can’t bring himself to  _ care. _

“Speaking of Rex and Commander Tano,” Jesse says after a moment, “where are they, anyway?”

Anakin winces a little and bites his lip, hesitates. “Ahsoka is…” and he frowns, checks on the bond. “Asleep, apparently. She got overwhelmed,” and he knows his men know what he means.

“Is the Captain okay?” Brii asks (and  _ kriff _ the kid, if he discovers offensive pictures of himself as a fish  _ anywhere _ on this ship he’s going to  _ murder Brii), _ looking worried. “When we were scouting, those two guards  _ knew him _ and the Commander, and he panicked.”

Anakin nods, winces again. “Yeah, I know. From what I picked up from Snips, those two guards were personally assigned to her and Rex in Kadavo. But Rex is--I think he’s doing okay.”

“Except for the fact where he  _ carried the Commander,” _ Kix announces dramatically from the end of the table. “Kriff him, I’m going to make good on my threat of  _ severe bodily pain.” _

Tuck, wandering over, rolls his eyes. “Like he could’ve done anything else,  _ vod.” _

Kix makes a face, flops onto the table on his back and starts pulling off his upper body armor. “Kriff you, Tuck.”

“You okay there, Kix?” Anakin asks, raising an eyebrow, amused--he probably  _ shouldn’t _ be, the medic is stressed and exhausted, but it’s  _ kriffing funny. _

Kix responds with a rude gesture that makes Jesse whistle and applaud, and Anakin rolls his eyes. “You kriffing left me alone with kriffing  _ mando’ade, _ Skywalker, and none of them would kriffing  _ let me treat them!” _

Anakin raises his hands in surrender. “Blame the  _ Mand’alor, _ not me.”

“And kriffing  _ Jak Ordo won’t kriffing leave,” _ and Kix violently flings a pauldron into the wall and grumbles something very rude in Mando’a under his breath. “Skywalker, can you please--make them  _ listen _ to me?”

Anakin’s rather distracted by the way Miik’s  _ flinching _ away from the noise, the gesture, and he says quietly, “Kix, get it together.”  _ It’s alright, kid, he’s not throwing it at you. He’s just frustrated and tired. _

Kix sits up, lets Tuck pull him off the table, moves to the bench, and then his eyes land on Miik and he  _ swears. _ “What the  _ kriff, _ did you adopt  _ another youngling?” _

“Another--what?” Anakin stares. “I didn’t  _ adopt Ahsoka, _ the Council sent her to me--”

“So you’re adopting this one?” That’s Brii.

_ Unfair. _ Anakin makes a face, gestures rudely at all of them. “Shut up, all of you.”

“Yessir,” Tup says, saluting, “Right away, sir--”

“That means  _ you, _ Tup,” insufferable  _ clone troopers, _ why the kriff. He points his fork at them all, vaguely threateningly, glares. “I’m putting  _ all of you _ on dish detail today.”

Brii looks vaguely horrified, Kix just makes yet another one of the gestures he’s picked up from the  _ Kyr’tsad, _ and Jesse rolls his eyes. “Only Rex can do that.”

“Wanna bet?”

~~~

“Guys, General Skywalker can do what he wants,” Brii says, and Miik takes a bite of something soft and moist and  _ sweet _ and  _ wow _ .

“Oh, Brii, you’re so quaint,” Jesse says. Miik peers at the bald human’s head, wonders if it would be rude to ask what his markings are and why he’s hairless. Probably. And it would mean not eating more of  _ whatever _ he’s chewing on at the moment. (He already feels so  _ full _ and he doesn’t remember feeling full like this before.)

Brii opens his mouth, and even Miik can tell he’s offended, which is  _ funny _ , and when no sound comes out, Miik can’t help but  _ giggle _ .

Which makes  _ everyone _ look at him. Oh no. He swallows the food in his mouth, ears twitching. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Oh my little gods,” Jesse groans. “It’s fine,  _ vaar’ika _ .”

Miik smiles, tentatively, and everyone grins. Which is weird. Humans are weird.

_ Why do they talk that way, Anakin? _ He takes another bite of his food.  _ I don’t get it _ .

_ They think they’re funny _ , Anakin says, which doesn’t really help. Miik leans into his papa’s shoulder and eyes the rest of his food narrowly. He doesn’t feel so good because his stomach is starting to hurt, so he doesn’t  _ want _ to eat more, but he’s afraid there won’t be more if he doesn’t.  _ Take it easy, Miik _ .  _ There’s plenty of food and plenty of time. _

Miik doesn’t even know how that’s  _ possible _ , but both Anakin and his papa give him sharp looks when he reaches for his plate again, so he just pulls his hand back and starts thinking about other things so he doesn’t think about food. He’s good at that.

_ I think I like them _ , he thinks, bites his claws a little. He wonders if the other human, Rex, is anything like this. Is this  _ normal _ for humans? He doesn’t know, but he definitely thinks this is fun.

~~~

Kix is  _ miserable. _

Normally, he appreciates his talent for empathy, the way he instinctively feels a person’s emotions, but the medbay today has been  _ packed _ to the brim with  _ too much-- _ he knows exactly why the Commander panicked, especially since she got stuck with the task of trying to talk Jak kriffing Ordo down, since she’s the only one he listened to when he’d attacked Crys.

Crys Rodarch, thankfully,  _ isn’t _ in the medbay, because that would kriffing make this entire kriffing day  _ even better. _

“What’s the plan for Grievous?” he asks, after a moment, because while half the battalion seems to have forgotten the  _ real _ reason they’re on Utapau, Kix hasn’t. “Have we heard back from the rest of the scouts?”

Skywalker grins sheepishly. “Um. I should  _ probably _ ask Obi-Wan about that.”

“Are you kriffing  _ kidding me,” _ Kix says flatly, and then he sighs and rolls his eyes. “You aren’t going to let Kenobi fight Grievous, right, General?”

“Well,” and the shifty look on Skywalker’s face is all the answer Kix needs.

“Oh,  _ kriff you, _ why did I even ask,” and he groans. “Why do I have to do  _ everything myself?” _

“I ask myself that a lot,” Skywalker says. And  _ grins. _

Kriff him. 

“I’ll have to talk to Scratch. Maybe between the two of us we can keep him shipbound,” he mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“You need to  _ sleep, vod,” _ Jesse says, and yes, okay, he’s  _ right, _ but he can sleep  _ later. _

(The Force isn’t very pleased with that.)

“I’m  _ fine, _ Jesse,” Kix grumbles petulantly. He is, really.

“You keep swearing in front of the  _ vaar’ika.” _

That’s  _ not the point. _ “And?”

“How much Force-healing have you done?”

Kriff Jesse for knowing him too well. “Not that much?” he tries, and even  _ Brii _ glares, like they all know. “Okay, fine. More than I should’ve. But--”

“Kix,” Skywalker says, groans. “How many times do you have to get Force burn before you  _ learn?” _

He shrugs a little. “I ask myself that a lot. About you Jedi.”

“I’ll Force you under,” Skywalker threatens, and Kix rolls his eyes.

“Kriffing try me, General. I’m  _ not _ in the mood, and I’m hardly weak-minded. Also,” and he grins a little, “even  _ Kenobi _ couldn’t Force me under after Kamino.”

His General hadn’t known that, and the Jedi looks… distinctly unamused by that.

~~~

Zarak knows that what he doesn’t know what’s going on, the best thing to do is keep his head down and not ask questions. Miik has just started understanding that, but it seems his hard work on that has gone out the window, and Zarak blames the Jedi. So there’s food, and banter, and it’s all  _ fine _ , but Zarak knows he is on  _ thin _ ground and he doesn’t want to lose his son to all this.

Miik’s head is on his shoulder and he seems amazed by everything, and Zarak allows himself to be grateful they gave him and Miik so much food - but he won’t thank them. That would be admitting a debt, something owed, and he knows better.

“You need to go back to the barracks,” the one called Jesse says, sharply, and Zarak reaches for more of his food. He doesn’t  _ care _ how much these soldiers talk (although he is almost,  _ almost _ amused by their reaction to Miik), he just wants to eat and take what he can get. He doesn’t even know where he’s expected to sleep tonight, Alari is in the med bay entirely too close to people General Skywalker says he doesn’t trust, and his son is clearly very excited about this Jedi they’ve met.

Zarak thinks most of the things he counts on are moments away from crashing down. A part of him is surprised it’s taken this long. Mostly he just knows the best he can do for himself and Miik and Alari is  _ be quiet _ and take what he can, while he can.

Before reality settles back in.

~~~

Brii has a hard time understanding exactly what Kix’s aversion to  _ sleep _ is--it must be a Jedi thing, he muses, seeing as how Generals Kenobi and Skywalker and Commander Tano do it all the time on missions. Still, the medic  _ looks _ worn to the bone, and the way he’d flopped out on the nearest flat surface and laced every sentence with multiple swears is just a further indication. So Brii stands, says, “Come on,  _ vod, _ we’ll need you in the medbay if the mission goes bantha-shit.”

Kix makes a face but sighs, because Brii is  _ right _ and knows it. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but comm Scratch and get him over here. Somebody needs to look after those two,” and he nods at the  _ vaar’ika _ and the older Zygerrian. 

“I can do that,” Tuck says, and General Skywalker snorts.

“Not kriffing likely, Tuck,” he says, rolls his eyes. “You’ve been on your feet just as long as Kix has, and I didn’t promote you so you could turn into a self-sacrificing  _ di’kut.” _

Kix makes a face at that.

“Is is the Force that does that?” Brii asks, curiously, extending a hand so he can pull his  _ vod _ off the bench. “Make you a self-sacrificing  _ di’kut, _ I mean. Since it seems like most Jedi are.” And then he stops, realizes what he’s just said. “Kriff, that was  _ so rude, _ I’m sorry--”

General Skywalker  _ laughs, _ and keeps laughing, shaking his head, smiling almost  _ fondly. _ “You’re fine, kid.”

Brii bristles at that. “I’m not the kid anymore,” he complains, “you’ve got an  _ actual kid _ running around now--”

“You’re still a kid,  _ ori’vod,” _ Tup says gently, and Brii sulks. Tup is supposed to be on  _ his side. _ “Sorry to disappoint.”

Brii sighs, huffs a little, grumbles. At least he’s not a  _ shiny. _ His eyes land on his sketchbook, and the rough sketch of the  _ vaar’ika, _ and he smiles a little, leaves Kix to grab the book. “Hey,  _ vaar’ika.” _

It takes the  _ vaar’ika _ a minute to realize Brii’s talking to him, and then his eyes go wide and his ears flatten against his head a little. He doesn’t say anything, though he glances first at his  _ buir, _ then at the General (yup,  _ definitely _ going to be the General’s new padawan, he’s  _ so _ going to win that bet), and Brii takes that as an invitation. He walks around to the other side of the table, shows the kid the sketch. “What do you think?”

~~~

Without thinking about it, Miik lifts his hand toward the drawing, wanting to touch it, fascinated - but that would be rude, probably, so he pulls his hand back to his chest and just  _ stares _ .

That's definitely  _ him _ , on that page, and Brii made that picture of him, and Miik doesn't know why but it's  _ really nice _ . And Brii says “What do you think?” and Miik can barely believe the question. Why does it matter what he thinks - it's a picture Brii made.

“Woah,” he says, and Brii laughs. “You  _ made _ that?”

“Yeah,” Brii said, smiling widely. “Because you were cute.”

Miik blinks and looks at his papa, who flicks his ears dismissively, like  _ just accept it, kid _ . “Thanks?” he says, staring at the drawing because looking at Brii is intimidating.

“You can keep it, once I finish it,” Brii says, and Miik glances at his papa again, and his papa’s hackles are up. Miik knows the rule, you don't let people give you things. Gifts mean you owe someone something, and when you took things from the masters they would always remind you.

“That's okay,” Miik says hesitantly, scooting closer to Papa. “I really like it though.”

Brii looks confused, and kind of frowns and leans back. Miik just stares at the picture and tries to smile at Brii because it is a  _ really amazing _ thing, that Brii made.

~~~

Brii doesn’t mean to be  _ hurt, _ but he is, in a way. “Oh,” he says, softly, tries not to sound disappointed, and he backs up a little. “Uh, okay, right,” and he hugs his sketchbook to his chest protectively, nods a little. “Right.”

He hadn’t  _ planned _ on offering the sketch to the  _ vaar’ika, _ but the kid had looked so  _ excited  _ and he’s  _ really kriffing cute _ and well, he hadn’t really thought about it, just… done it. But the kid doesn’t want it. Okay, that’s… okay, it’s not like he’d  _ expected _ the kid to want it, it’s fine, it’s all fine. He tries a smile, fails a little, turns it into a grimace, and backs quickly around to the other side of the table, to Tup and Jesse and Kix and Tuck. “Come on,  _ vod,” _ he says to Kix, “let’s go back to the barracks.” 

He can finish the drawing there,  _ and _ make sure Kix actually sleeps. And then he’ll work on the drawing of General Skywalker the fish. He knows the General, at least, laughs at his caricatures, so… so that’s good, that’ll be good. It’s  _ okay _ that the kid doesn’t want it. It’s fine. He’ll make it be fine. After all, this isn’t the first time someone didn’t want his drawings, lots of people don’t like pictures.

Tup looks worried, he thinks, though he’s not sure  _ why. _

~~~

Miik isn't good at human faces, but Brii looks  _ unhappy _ , and Miik knows the rule, you can't take gifts, but Brii looks really disappointed and Miik wants the picture. He doesn't know what he'd  _ do _ with the picture, but he wants it.

“Um… Brii?” he says, and his papa lets out a very soft growl, quiet enough that Miik thinks the humans and their tiny ears probably can't hear it. Miik winces, but Brii just looks so sad and Miik  _ loves _ that picture. Brii looks at him, raises his eyebrows, and Miik scratches his ear. “I really want the picture,” he admits.

“Miik!”

“But I can't have it!” Miik says quickly, because he's not breaking Papa’s rule, he's just  _ explaining _ . “Papa has a rule about gifts, so I can't-”

“ _ Miik _ ,” his papa says, more urgently, and Miik stops because Papa’s ears are shifting a little bit back, hackles still up. He's messed up something, hasn't he? He didn't mean to, but at least Brii looks less upset now, more confused, but Papa does  _ not _ look pleased and Miik somehow knows his papa is  _ scared _ . Which is probably Miik’s fault. He didn't  _ mean _ to mess all this up, he just wanted to fix it.

Jesse gestures to the other two, the one with the cool markings, Kix, and the one called Tuck, and they leave while Brii kind of hesitates and sits down. Miik glances at Papa again because he suddenly doesn't know what he's supposed to do. There isn't a rule that quite fits this.

~~~

Anakin doesn’t  _ want _ to be angry, because he  _ understands, _ he recognizes the signs, he remembers his mom’s rules, but--this is  _ ridiculous, _ and Zarak is making this all  _ harder _ on Miik, and… “I’m not a kriffing slaver,” he snaps through gritted teeth. “I was  _ born a slave, _ Zarak, I know the rules, my mother taught me them, but you’re making this  _ harder _ on your son. It’s a drawing, no strings attached, you don’t owe us anything.”

Zarak looks  _ angry, _ and also afraid, and he snaps out, “Leave Miik  _ out of this.” _

Which is  _ so stupid, _ and Anakin clenches his jaw tighter, because all of this--it’s all  _ too much, _ too close to home, and he really  _ doesn’t want to lose his temper. _ Not here, not now. So he balls his hands into fists, closes his eyes, swallows hard. “Brii, Tup, get them back to the medbay, get them bunks, get Scratch or someone over here to treat them,” he orders, stands slowly, lets his breath out carefully. “I need to find Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan and mission-plan.”

_ Anakin? _ Miik asks, careful but concerned, and Anakin thinks the kid understands enough to know this is about more than just a picture, but not more than that.  _ Where are you going? _

The kid is  _ worried. _ Anakin sighs, can’t help unbending enough to smile. “I’m just going to find Obi-Wan, that’s all.”

“Kenobi,” Zarak says flatly, obviously familiar with the names, from the holos probably. He doesn’t look pleased.

“Kenobi,” Anakin agrees, inclines his head.

“Can I come?” Miik asks, eyes wide and unsure but  _ curious, _ and also like he’s nervous about letting Anakin out of his sight.

_ “Miik!” _ Zarak, Anakin thinks, looks  _ pissed. _

Miik shrinks a little, his ears flattening against his head, but he doesn’t relent. “Please, Anakin?”

Anakin  _ does not want _ to let the kid out of his sight. But he also doesn’t really want to get into a fight with Zarak here, not least because the Zygerrian is injured, and it would make Miik panic. “Your papa needs medical treatment,” he says gently, neither a  _ no _ nor a  _ yes, _ just a statement of fact.

Miik nods, looks uncertain. “But you aren’t coming with us.” He tilts his head to one side, adds,  _ I don’t want you to leave. _

Anakin closes his eyes, sighs quietly. “I  _ do _ have to introduce you to Obi-Wan,” he mumbles tiredly, because it is  _ too late _ for this shit, he’s  _ tired, _ kriffing Windu waking him up way too kriffing early. “Alright, fine, c’mere kid,” and he bends down and scoops Miik up into his arms again. The kid smiles widely, though he still looks  _ unsure, _ and kind of… melts into his arms, and Anakin can’t keep a grin off his face. “You are  _ too cute,” _ he says under his breath.

~~~

Tup comes over, like he expects Zarak to actually go with him for medical attention when  _ his son _ is going off with a Jedi to meet  _ General Kenobi _ , like this is supposed to be  _ fine _ . So  _ kriffing _ what if Skywalker was a slave and “knows how it feels,” he’s not leaving his son alone with him.

The Jedi destroyed his people, and they take Force sensitive children, and Zarak is not going to receive medical attention while he doesn’t even know where Miik  _ is _ .

“I’m coming too,” he says, sharply, and the clone stops, frowns.

“No, you aren’t,” Skywalker answers, with a barely-there edge to his voice. “You need bacta. Kix will kill me if I let you.”

Miik’s ears swivel straight up. “I want him to come,” he says, grinning a little. “That would be  _ fun _ .”

Zarak smiles at his son because unfortunately, it seems Miik really likes Skywalker, so he has to pretend this is somewhat fine.

“He needs  _ medicine _ , Miik,” the Jedi says, narrowing his eyes at Zarak. Zarak twists his lip, bares his teeth a little, but also bares his throat. He doesn’t mean to do that, but it’s probably wiser.

“I have gone longer without it,” Zarak says, which is true. No one wastes bacta on slaves. Zarak has been whipped many times, and he’s used to dealing with it. “I’d like to meet General Kenobi too,” he says, smiles at Miik again. Skywalker scowls, and Zarak is pushing things, but he thinks Skywalker cares about his son, which means a  _ small _ measure of safety.

Skywalker glares at him for a second, and Zarak drops his eyes to the floor instinctively.

“Come on, Anakin,” Miik says, cheerfully, and Zarak smirks a little.  _ Yeah, come on, Skywalker _ .

He is  _ not _ going anywhere without Miik, and he  _ thinks _ there’s only so far Skywalker will push him on this with Miik here. He’s not going to trust anyone else with Miik’s safety, however much they seem to care.

~~~

Anakin  _ will _ be talking to Zarak about this. Later. When Miik is not bouncy and beaming in his arms, his thoughts rippling with  _ excitement. _ “Fine,” he says shortly, “but when you collapse I’m sending you back to the medbay, where you  _ should be.” _

“If,” Zarak corrects, and Anakin rolls his eyes. Whatever.

“Tup,” he calls, and the long-haired trooper meets his eyes, a question inherent in them. “I want Cody and a full squad of  _ vod’e _ he trusts  _ absolutely _ over here with Scratch. Domino on shifts with them.”

“Medbay?”

Anakin nods. “Elle and anyone she trusts can rotate in, but the only  _ mando’ad _ allowed unsupervised is Elle. Don’t kriffing let Kix back in the medbay until he’s slept it off, clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Tup says, snaps out a salute, and he and Brii hurry off. Anakin nods, satisfied, and then he starts for the bridge.

He keeps up a running mental commentary to Miik as they go, pointing things out, speaking out loud just often enough that Zarak  _ knows _ what he’s doing, and the Zygerrian is  _ angry _ but there’s only so far either of them are willing to go with Miik here. Anakin has to bite his lip to hide a smirk.  _ Payback. _

Sure enough, Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan are on the bridge, Utapau in glowing blue between them, the scouted sinkholes marked in red, the as-yet-unscouted ones yellow. “Nice of you to join us, Sky--” and Bo-Katan’s voice cuts off as she turns enough to  _ see. _ “The  _ kriff, _ Skywalker, you can’t just bring  _ ade _ into a war briefing!”

“Obi-Wan, this is Miik. Miik, meet General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.”

Miik flinches a little, ears flattening, says tremulously, “Master?”

Anakin winces. “Not  _ that _ kind of master,” he explains quickly. “It’s just a title. It means he’s really good at the Force.” The kid still looks unsure, feels scared, so he says, “He’s not going to hurt you, promise. He’s the one who rescued me when I was a slave.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “One might say you rescued yourself, Anakin.”

He smirks. “Well, yes,  _ and _ I blew up a droid control ship in the process.”

“Really?” Miik asks, eyes wide and round.

Anakin nods, very seriously. “You see, we were on Naboo. The Trade Federation had taken over the planet and the Queen had to flee--”

“Perhaps now is not the best time,” Obi-Wan interrupts. Anakin makes a face. He  _ likes _ telling that story.

~~~

Obi-Wan isn't sure how Anakin has managed to pick up a Zygerrian boy, but Obi senses the child is a sensitive. Wonderful. What a complication. The Force is almost  _ laughing _ at this.

“It's nice to meet you, Miik,” Obi says, raises an eyebrow at Anakin because they  _ will _ be talking about this later. “And who's this?”

The other Zygerrian, darker grey than Miik, and Obi-Wan tries to keep his heartrate steady (release it to the Force, this is fine).

“He's Miik’s father,” Anakin says, and the Zygerrian twitches his ears, which Obi-Wan knows means the Zygerrian is deeply uncomfortable. “Zarak.”

“Pleased to meet you, as well,” Obi says smoothly. Bo-Katan snorts and crosses her arms, and Obi thinks this is not an ideal situation. “Anakin, I would  _ love _ an explanation for this, but perhaps later? We have plans to make. It seems Grievous has  _ not  _ caught wind of all this,” - which is, frankly, a miracle - “and we've located him here.” Obi sweeps his hand and pulls part of the map up, a couple dozen clicks away. “There’s a lot more of the CIS officers with him than we anticipated.”

~~~

Anakin grimaces, nods. “Right.” He glances down at Miik.  _ Are you staying here or do you want to go back to the medbay? _

Miik frowns.  _ I don’t want to go back there. The magic wasn’t happy. _

Fair enough. “What does the Council say?” he asks Obi-Wan, stepping forward to look closer at the holo. 

Obi-Wan sighs. “Kill Grievous, capture as many CIS high brass as possible, and do it  _ fast.” _

Obviously. Grievous will do everything in his power to escape, the instant he knows they’re here. “Killing Grievous won’t be easy,” he remarks, frowns. “What’re we looking at down there?”

Bo-Katan steps forward, manipulates the holo to zoom in on the sinkhole, places orange indicators in a few key spots. “Antiaircraft here, here, and here, though I think these defenses are manned by the sentients who live here. Looks like the natives are under occupation by a droid army--Grievous and his officials are down on the lower levels.”

Anakin hums thoughtfully, adjusting Miik in his arms. “Who contacted us with the tip?”

“It appears to have come from the native population,” Obi-Wan says.

Good, that’s good. “If they’d sympathetic to Republic forces, we could take an unmarked ship down, go after Grievous, bring the battalions in after we’ve cornered him.”

Obi-Wan frowns, rubs his beard. “Grievous will certainly have sentries watching for Jedi.”

“Then we make it look like we’re stopping for a refuel, pretend to board the ship, sneak out and hide, have Artoo fly it out.”

“We’d be stranded down there,” Bo-Katan says.

He shrugs. “Just until the transports showed up. It wouldn’t be long.”

“It’s risky,” Obi-Wan agrees.

Anakin snorts. “Compared to my normal plans, Master,” and he quickly soothes Miik mentally, “this is  _ tame. _ And it’ll work.”

~~~

Miik doesn't really understand what's happening at all, except it sounds somewhere between dangerous and exciting, and Anakin feels a little thrilled. He keeps his eyes on his papa and keeps thinking toward Anakin. It helps, Anakin talking to him and his papa holding his eyes.

The new Jedi, General - or is it Master? - Obi-Wan Kenobi, feels like a  _ nice _ person. “Yes, it might,” he says, with a wry smile. “Although I wouldn't object to a better plan.”

“This is the best plan  _ I _ have,” Anakin says. “If you want a better one, you'll need to  _ make _ a better one.”

Miik snickers a little and leans back.  _ Hey, Anakin, I want to get down _ .

_ You sure? _

_ Yeah _ . Miik wants to stand by his papa, and anyway, the red-haired human is staring at him and it makes Miik feel small. Which he is  _ not _ , he's  _ eight _ , thank you very much, and that human looks weirder and angrier than the other ones do, mostly. Anakin sets him down and he crosses his arms, edges towards Papa, and tries to pretend he knows what's going on.

~~~

_ Anakin, _ Obi-Wan says sharply, across their training bond, and Anakin grimaces a little,  _ did you  _ **_bond_ ** _ with the youngling? _

_ It wasn’t my fault! _ Why does everyone keep blaming him for this? For  _ once, _ he didn’t do it!

Obi-Wan just  _ glares. _ “Unfortunately,” he says, “I don’t have a better plan.” He looks to Bo-Katan, asks, “Is Jak going to be able to fight?”

The  _ Mand’alor _ nods, though there’s tension lines around her green eyes. “He was  _ ori’ramikad,  _ he knows how to compartmentalize.”

“Good,” Anakin says. “I want you and him with Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, and I when we go after Grievous. We’ll need you to set up a perimeter and capture as many Seppies as possible.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Good idea--Cody, Kix, and Elle can coordinate the battalions. You should ready your warriors,  _ Mand’alor.” _

She nods again, says, “Meet in the hangar in fifteen?”

“Excellent.”

…

Ahsoka is jerked awake by the insistent chirping of her commlink. She frowns, blinks the sleep slowly out of her eyes; she’s still tired, still shaky and unbalanced, but at least she feels vaguely  _ calm, _ now. Her internal clock is off, and she’s not sure what time it is, though she doesn’t think she’s been asleep for too long, given how tired she still feels. She would rather still be  _ sleeping, _ but her comm won’t  _ stop, _ and beneath her cheek Rex is stirring, the sound and her own wakefulness pulling him from the sleep they both so desperately need.

_ I know you’re awake, Snips, _ Anakin sends, and she responds with a few choice swears, presses the button on her wristcomm. “What?”

_ “I need you and Rex ready for a fight and in the hangar in fifteen,”  _ he says, almost apologetically, and she grumbles.  _ “I’m briefing the men now, will brief you two when I see you. Hurry it up, we don’t have much time.” _

Kriff.  _ I don’t want to, cyare, _ she thinks, closes her eyes again and nestles closer to Rex. He hums soothingly, runs his hands across her montrals and headtails. It’s nice, feels good, comforting, feels like  _ safety _ and  _ home, _ but it’s not enough.  _ I’m tired. _

_ Me too, ‘Soka, but we can rest after this. _

That’s too far away. For a moment, she almost doesn’t  _ care _ that completing this mission brings them one step closer to the end of the war; she’s  _ tired  _ of fighting this war. Yes, she’s a huntress, she comes alive in a fight, but this war is so  _ pointless _ and they know now it was fabricated from the very start, and so they don’t even have a  _ cause _ to fight for anymore. And it’s  _ exhausting. _ She huffs out a breath, refuses to move until Rex says,  _ I need to put my armor on, _ and then she grumbles but reluctantly sits up.

And then  _ swears. _ “The cracked pieces,” she remembers, the parts of his armor she’d clung to with so much force (and Force), and she swallows, chokes under a sudden flood of guilt.

He’s not going to be adequately protected in the coming battle, and it’s  _ her fault. _

~~~

Rex sighs and reaches for his chestpiece, starts efficiently strapping it on. He wants to change his blacks but he doesn't have time for that so it's the backplate, then his pauldrons, then vambraces and gauntlets. The vambrace isn't much of a concern, just a little dented - he's a little more worried about his pauldron, but if it fails him, he'll be able to make do.

“It'll be fine,” he says dismissively. “I’m already short a DC, so I’m sure I won’t be bored today.”

He doesn’t think that exactly  _ helps _ Soka, and he sighs, supposes he should be less flippant, he just has to not  _ care _ or he’ll worry because alright, they aren’t the most important armor pieces, but he has them for a reason. He shields that thought with yet another sigh and reaches out, quickly, puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m serious, Soka, I’m going to be  _ fine _ . Okay?”

He stands up, pads over to grab his boots and shove them on, then his belt and kamas, slips the vibroblade he keeps under his pillow into his gauntlet, and picks up his bucket, settles it on his head. He doesn’t really feel ready to go fight again, but he  _ is _ ready, which is the important thing. Slower than usual, three minutes today, but that’s good enough for now.

Ahsoka was ready to go already, more or less, which is fine except he shares Cody’s opinion that the Jedi should really wear more armor, wear something - his Soka doesn’t even bother with a tabard, which he’s  _ tried _ to talk to her about, but she doesn’t listen. Apparently a few armor pieces would simply be  _ too limiting _ for a  _ Jedi _ .

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t entirely believe him, but she sighs, nods, hooks her ‘sabers to her belt. “You  _ better _ be fine,” she mutters, “or we’re going to have  _ words _ about it.”

She means it to be vaguely threatening, but she doesn’t think she succeeds, considering the brief flicker of amusement she picks up from him. “Soka, you don’t even wear  _ armor,” _ he huffs.

She makes a face at him. “It’d just get in the way.”

He sighs. “My point exactly.”

She shrugs, not entirely understanding, says, “Come on, Anakin’s going to be mad if we’re late,” even though they still have somewhere between five and ten minutes to go.

They make it down to the hangar with plenty of time to spare, and unsurprisingly, Anakin isn’t there yet. Obi-Wan is, though, and with him are Bo-Katan and Jak. Jak has his helmet on, and she can’t help being grateful. She doesn’t want to see his face.

~~~

Rex finds himself as grateful for his own helmet as Ahsoka is for Jak’s. He thinks his face would give away too much of what he feels, the exhaustion and nerves and the way he can’t help being a bit threatened by Jak right now. It’s just that there are stains on Jak’s armor, and Rex had  _ seen _ him when he was going to kill his master, and Rex saw the body and… and he doesn’t like what he’d seen.

He’d known Jak Ordo was different from himself, or the Jedi, or his  _ vod’e _ , but he hadn’t been aware just  _ how _ different.

_ I don’t think he’s ready for this, _ Rex thinks. This whole campaign has been far harder on Jak than Rex had expected - hells, although he wouldn't say so, he thinks Ahsoka isn't ready for this either.

He is, somehow, and he won’t complain about it (he’s not, he’s not ready this is just a normal battle but everything is off-kilter, has been since they arrived) because being battle-ready is good, definitely basic, beginning necessity.

_ I’m worried about him _ , Ahsoka says, and there’s an impression of memory, of how Jak had felt after the battle. In return, Rex sends the image of Jak’s owner’s body, just a snippet of it.

Ahsoka feels  _ stunned _ .

_ He’s not safe _ , Rex says, not like it’s a surprise or like any of this is. It’s just a fact, simple. Jak might like Ahsoka, maybe even like Rex and Brii and some of the others. Jak may be powerful and have a sense of honor and duty. But Jak Ordo is  _ not safe _ .

_ I guess not _ . Ahsoka sighs and leans into him a little, and he senses she’s still so  _ tired _ . She shouldn’t be going on this mission, and Rex knows she wouldn’t appreciate it but he considers talking to Anakin, asking him to make Ahsoka stay behind. He doesn’t think she would listen, at least not easily, but he weighs the option anyway, seriously, shielding the deliberations from her. Ultimately, he decides it wouldn’t really work, and she’d be  _ pissed _ at him, so he just suggests it himself.

_ Maybe you should stay on the Resolute for some of this. Help keep an eye on the slaves. _ He’s very careful to only let  _ some _ of his worry bleed through, enough that she understands.

~~~

It’s a mark of how tired and  _ hollow _ she feels that Ahsoka actually  _ considers _ Rex’s suggestion for a moment. Sleep, watching the slaves, making sure the Death Watch soldiers don’t kill or maim anyone… it sounds  _ nice, _ she thinks, and that sends warning bells ringing dimly through the back of her mind. Plus, she thinks, Rex won’t be here with her, if she stays, Rex will be  _ out there _ with no one to watch his six, and…

And he doesn’t  _ need _ her there, but. But she needs to be here, she needs to be out there, fighting Grievous, she needs to be there for Anakin, and so she takes a deep breath.  _ No, I need to fight, _ she thinks, and she can feel some of Rex’s agitation, his worry for her. He  _ wants _ her to stay.

She really probably  _ should. _

But she needs to go. She needs to  _ be there. _ So she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin and turns her spine to durasteel and says, “What’s the situation, Obi-Wan?”

“I think I’ll wait for Anakin to get here,” the Jedi Master says, and she nods. Fair enough. “This  _ is _ his plan, after all.”

Oh, great. Wonderful. Maybe she  _ should _ stay back, after all.

~~~

Rex’s thoughts echo Soka’s own. He just  _ loves _ Anakin’s plans. At least they  _ work _ , and they aren’t as careless as they seem, oftentimes - but they are still  _ insane _ , and Rex finds himself  _ falling _ a lot.

_ You should definitely stay here,  _ he jokes, and he can feel she’s a little piqued about that, it’s just- he’s not sure, he thinks he’s worrying too much. And he doesn’t mean to be anxious, he just feels like things are  _ out of control _ and he needs this campaign to make sense again.

Plans would be good. But Anakin seems determined to shave his arrival down to the last possible second he can, which is not exactly unusual. Kenobi doesn’t look thrilled about it either - wisely, Kenobi is also staying fairly clear of Jak.

General Kenobi shouldn’t be on this mission either. Rex sighs and draws his unmodified DC-17. He hopes they’ll make planetfall somewhere soon so he can get a new part for his  _ good _ blaster. At least after this battle he’ll have time to go the armory and replace his damaged pieces, although that means a new paint job.

He does like painting his armor, though, so that’s fine.

He’s just sliding his vibroblade out of his gauntlet to twist it between his fingers when Anakin shows up, walking easy and confident like he’s got all the time in the world. Which is  _ also _ not unusual. Rex flips the blade in his palm, feels the weight of it, rolls his eyes even though Anakin can’t see it.

“Good to see you both,” Anakin says, with a wry smirk, and Rex nods. His General looks  _ tired _ , which doesn’t surprise Rex, exactly, but does worry him. “Sorry you didn’t have more time to sleep.”

Rex, personally, is fine - Ahsoka really needs sleep still, though, and he  _ really _ wants to say something to Anakin about it but he’s sure Anakin can already tell. Hence the apology.

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka says, and Rex frowns.

And decides he’s done enough worrying for now, enough  _ thinking _ , so he takes a few deep breaths and pushes all the extra  _ stuff _ to the back corners of his mind for later, channels the anxious pre-battle energy into tightening his hand around his vibroblade and testing the edge of it with his thumb.

He forces steel into his spine and steadiness into his breath, ignores the way his wound has been throbbing since he woke up. Unfortunately, he can’t afford to care about that right now. He’ll deal with it after they win, and if there’s a problem, he’ll deal with that too.

~~~

Anakin is projecting a steady stream of apologetic concern, and it’s driving Ahsoka  _ crazy. _

Like, okay, she gets it--he’s worried about her, because she’d had a total  _ meltdown _ for absolutely no reason (and she’s a  _ Jedi, _ or, well, sorta-a-Jedi, she should be  _ better _ than that), and he’s sorry because she needs more sleep than she’d gotten, but  _ all of them _ are in that boat. Anakin himself looks about like he hasn’t really slept in a week, with shadows under his eyes and a bit of a paleness to his skin that worries her. So she puts up a light shield across the training bond, just enough to send Anakin a message--he pulls back almost immediately, with one last light apology, and she lets the shield dissipate. “What’s the plan?” she asks, and Anakin takes a breath, his gaze sharpening.

“The locals are under Separatist occupation and are sympathetic to us,” he explains, “so we take an unmarked ship, land, pretend to leave again--”

And Ahsoka grins, picking up the rest of the plan from his head. “You’re going to have Artoo remote-pilot the ship away while we--what, sneak out and hide underneath the landing pad and hope the sentries don’t notice us?” A typical Skywalker plan, if she’s being honest with herself, maybe less dangerous and reckless than some of the ones they’ve done--and  _ succeeded _ with. Still dangerous, especially with the amount of sleep they’re all sporting.

Anakin grins, laughs a little. “Exactly, Snips. We’ll sneak down to the lower levels--that’s where our intel has Grievous holed up at--and then call in the battalions once we’ve got him secured.”

It’s a sound plan. Even if it  _ is _ reckless, and dangerous, and a high chance of failure, it’s the  _ only _ plan they have. Unfortunately. Obi-Wan looks… frustrated, she thinks, or just plain  _ unsure _ about all this, and she doesn’t blame him. “We need to move, then,” she says, feels Rex taking a few careful breaths, slipping into his battle-ready mindset.

“Wait,” Bo-Katan says, and holds something up--a jetpack. She extends it to Rex. “You might need a  _ sen’tra _ for this mission, Captain.”

~~~

Rex takes the jetpack, of course- he knows how to use one, technically is even good at it. He doesn't particularly  _ like _ fighting with one, but that's neither here nor there.

“Thanks,  _ Mand’alor _ ,” he says, pulling the harness over his shoulders and buckling it around his waist. Hopefully he won't need it much.

He follows Ahsoka and Anakin to their ship (lets Jak and Bo-Katan go ahead of him though, with a forced kind of politeness, because just now he doesn't want Jak behind him), stares somewhat dubiously at it again before climbing in.

They're going to fly down into a sinkhole crawling with CIS top brass and  _ General Grievous _ , consequently also many, many droid battalions, and they're going to have their only escape route fly away without them until they can secure General Grievous - which is, historically, not an easy ask.

_ I have a bad feeling about this, _ Rex says, twirling his vibroblade again and glancing over at Anakin and Kenobi.

_ It'll probably be fine _ , Ahsoka says, and Rex snorts and leans back against the wall of the ship, feels durasteel shuddering as the engines come online.

“Oh, I'm sure it will,” he mutters, for just Ahsoka to hear. “But I'm also sure it's going to be very  _ exciting _ .”

~~~

For some reason, Ahsoka thinks Rex is being rather facetious when he says  _ exciting _ in that particular tone of voice. It brings a little smile to her face, and she leans into him a bit, just a little, even as they board the ship and the door hisses closed. There’s someone--something?--beeping and burbling in binary from the cockpit, and it takes a moment but she recognizes it as Artoo. Anakin grins, says, “We’re all clear, Artoo, take us down,” and then the ship lifts off and starts to move.

Jak’s standing incredibly, completely still in one corner of the hold, back to both walls, his hands folded behind him in impeccable parade rest. She tries not to let that unnerve her, focuses instead on the others: Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, meditating (of  _ course _ he is); Bo-Katan reflexively checking her blasters, feeling the weight and balance, sighting down the barrel, turning them over and over in her hands; Anakin pacing a path around the hold, his right hand hovering near his ‘saber hilt. Rex is outwardly calm beside her, though she can feel the tense anxiety humming in the back of his thoughts like a live wire--he’s pushing it back, taking careful, deep breaths, falling further and further into battle-readiness. Smart.

She should probably do the same.

Ahsoka closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, feels mission-silence coming over her like a cloak, icy-still and holding her tense, a shock of energy spiking through her blood, giving her the strength to shove her shoulders back and lift her chin and feel like she can actually  _ do this _ without collapsing.

No one speaks as the ship drops down into the sinkhole and lands; Obi-Wan stands, snapping out of his meditation easily, wraps his cloak around him as he steps out the door, alone. (She doesn’t trust this.) He’s gone for long enough she’s starting to worry (she can’t see where he’d gone, she can’t tell what’s going on), and then he comes back, steps inside the ship, says hurriedly, “We need to get out, now--the sentries aren’t paying attention.”

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, swallows, reaches for the Force. They can do this.

~~~

Rex stays right next to Ahsoka as they follow Kenobi to the opposite side of the ship’s hold. “There are sentries watching from there, there, and there,” Kenobi says, pointing. “But if we climb out here we should be fine. One at a time, and I'll go first.”

“No kriffing-”

“Anakin, not now, please.” Kenobi’s tone is sharp enough that Anakin actually subsides, and Kenobi pulls open a repair hatch in the side of the ship, quickly ignites his saber and slices an opening in the outside of the ship, pulls the piece of metal into the ship and sets it down quietly with a flick of his fingers. Then, with a small grimace, he climbs through the opening, across the landing pad, and with a smooth twist, dropped off the edge of it.

_ Jedi _ . Honestly. Jak starts to go out the opening, and Rex pushes past him, shaking his head. “I’m always first,” he says, casually, because he’s not letting Jak be alone with Obi-Wan - he’s not had good self-control today. He doesn’t think Jak loves that, but too bad.

He drops through the hatch, eases through the new hole in the bottom of the ship, and falls into a crouch, checks for sentries. No one seems to be watching, so he scrambles to the edge of the landing pad ( _ and he does not like heights he never has for kriff’s sake why does this always happen _ ) and, grabbing the edge of it, swallows and lets himself  _ drop off _ .

He hangs off the lip of the landing pad for a second, sees the ledge Kenobi is crouching on and lets himself fall the last several feet, landing and going to one knee to lessen the impact.

“Good to see you here, Captain,” Kenobi says lightly, smiling. Rex settles into a crouch and nods.

“You too, General,” he says lightly.

~~~

Bo-Katan and Jak, thankfully, don’t need to be  _ told _ to hurry; the instant Rex is out from underneath the ship, the two Mandalorians drop down, check to make sure the path is clear, and then vanish over the edge of the landing platform. Ahsoka slips through the small gap immediately after, finding herself only a couple meters from the platform’s edge. Two steps forward will take her out from beneath the ship and the scant cover it provides, leaving her dangerously exposed, but the ship is almost fully fueled and Anakin still has to get out, so she takes a deep breath, lifts the hood of the cloak Anakin had tossed at her just a moment ago, and then she draws on the Force and slips out into the open.

_ You don’t see me, _ she thinks, wrapping the Force around her like a second cloak,  _ I was never here, _ and then she’s crouching down, dropping over the lip of the platform and catching the very edge with her fingers. There’s a ledge a couple meters down, occupied by Obi-Wan, Rex, and the  _ mando’ade, _ and Ahsoka nods approvingly, swings her legs in a bit to change her trajectory, and lets go. She pulls on the Force a bit as she lands, lightly on the balls of her feet, and then she shifts over a bit to make room for Anakin, who’s already making the jump.

Their ship flies by overhead, and she swallows the twist of anxiety in her stomach. From now until the battalions attack, they’re effectively stranded.

“Grievous is on the tenth level,” Obi-Wan says in a low voice. He indicates the next platform down, which Ahsoka judges to be about a twenty-meter drop, give or take, with one hand. “If we drop down to that platform, we should be able to slip inside and sneak down to the correct level.”

It’s a long fall, even for a Jedi, and Ahsoka hesitates, eyeing the distance. It’d be easier to jump back up onto the platform they’d landed on--but if the sentries are still watching, they’d be instantly revealed, and the whole plan would be compromised, so… 

“Freefall until the last possible second,” Bo-Katan says to Rex. “The less you use your jetpack, the smaller the chance we’ll be detected.”

“You are  _ not _ going first this time, Master,” Anakin adds furiously. Privately, Ahsoka thinks the chances of that succeeding are slimmer than  _ the mission’s _ odds, but it’s a good try.

“On the contrary,” Obi-Wan says lightly, and then he tips over the edge.

Anakin  _ swears. _

And then Obi-Wan tucks and rolls, comes up on his feet like he jumps twenty meters every day (which, knowing him, almost wouldn’t be  _ surprising), _ adjusts his hood and cloak, and gestures quickly up at them. Bo-Katan is next; she jumps off, her jetpack flaring to life when she’s about five meters from the platform, enabling her to land easily without even dropping to a knee. Jak mimics her, and the three of them vanish out of Ahsoka’s sight.

She takes a deep breath, exchanges a look with Anakin, sends a pulse of reassurance to Rex (he’s anxious--he  _ really hates _ heights), and then gathers her cloak up and steps over the edge.

There’s a swooping feeling in her stomach, almost like a cloud of butterflies have suddenly hatched and are fluttering up into her throat, and she sucks in a sharp gasp and pulls on the Force, increasing strength and balance, and then she turns the wild freefall into a mostly-coordinated roll across the smaller platform and into the shadows. She gets back to her feet, grabs the hilts of her ‘sabers to keep her hands from trembling, takes a shaky breath.

They can’t go back now. The only way out is through.

~~~

Rex glances at Anakin, who gestures in front of him with a broad, generous smile. “After you, Captain.”

Rex sighs and goes to the edge of the platform and doesn't hesitate, just  _ jumps _ .

For a moment all his instincts are  _ screaming _ and his stomach is trying to escape out his mouth and the fall feels like years and he  _ hates heights  _ why the  _ kriff _ -

And he engages his jetpack with a jolt on his shoulders, slows just enough that landing heavily on the platform below doesn't send him crashing to the floor. He straightens and hurries out of sight, next to Ahsoka. A moment later, Anakin drops and rolls on the platform, and Rex envies his ease with it.

_ Tell me we aren't going to have to do that much more _ .

Ahsoka makes a face at him.  _ What's the big deal, Rexter? _

Rex snorts and rolls his shoulders.

“Are you all coming?” General Kenobi says, wryly, standing at a small tunnel entrance, eyebrows raised.

Anakin shakes his head and waves his hand; Rex falls in behind him with Ahsoka and Jak. No more falling, for now - but then he doesn't like tunnels either.

The tunnels are near-silent - even Jak’s boots don't make much sound. “Keep an eye out for hostiles,” he says. “The locals will turn a blind eye, but we can't afford to be seen.”

~~~

Ahsoka keeps her movements quiet and careful, feeling almost like a ghost in the dark brown cloak and hood, especially with the way the locals are very careful to  _ not _ acknowledge their presence. Every now and then, a patrol of droids troops by, and they have to take shelter in one of the nooks in the walls, one of the side rooms, frozen until the patrol passes by.

They maintain comms-silence as they go, just in case the Separatists are scanning for Republic comm frequencies in use, communicating solely through hand signals, though Ahsoka keeps up a steady projection of reassurance and calm across her bond with Rex--he’s uncomfortable, unnerved by the tunnels. She doesn’t like tunnels  _ either, _ but that’s easy enough to forget. She breathes in, breathes out, sinks deeper into mission-silence, lets the ice freeze over her thoughts. Calm, collected, focused. Ready.

They walk for what seems like an eternity, through a warren of tunnels that all look the exact same (a part of her vaguely wonders how Obi-Wan is navigating), and against her will, exhaustion begins to drag at her again. She knows once the actual  _ fighting _ starts, adrenaline will kick in and she’ll be able to  _ think _ again, but for now it’s taking every ounce of willpower, all the training she has, to keep herself on high alert, to stay  _ aware _ of her surroundings. (If someone were to ambush her right now, she isn’t sure she’d see it coming.)

Rex feels  _ concerned _ in the back of her thoughts, and she thinks that’s probably for good reason--she shouldn’t be here.

But then again,  _ none _ of them are exactly  _ ready _ for this: all of them have been awake for too long, running on too little sleep, and they’ve just come from another battle. And Obi-Wan has still only been  _ walking _ for a little under three weeks. And Jak’s in almost the same situation as she is, maybe even  _ worse, _ because she doubts he’s had  _ any _ sleep and he was so twisted up.

She’s really not sure how exactly the Council expects them to defeat Grievous in  _ this _ condition.

After a while, she’s not sure how long, they leave the almost-claustrophobic tunnels behind, emerging onto a durasteel catwalk above a large room open to the sinkhole. Quite a few people are gathered below, Grievous pacing in front of them, all four hands clasped behind his back. He’s saying something, but quietly enough she can’t tell  _ what, _ can’t make out the words.

Obi-Wan signals at Bo-Katan, Jak, and Rex, directing them to form a perimeter, keep everyone penned in, and then he drops his hood and  _ grins, _ and kriff. Kriff, she  _ recognizes _ that look, that’s the same look Anakin gets whenever he’s about to do something stupid and ill-advised and totally reckless. (Like Master, like Padawan.)

By the look on his face, Anakin recognizes that smile too, but neither of them are fast enough--Obi-Wan shrugs off his cloak with a flourish, pulls out his lightsaber, and jumps off the catwalk, lands lightly on the floor, ignites his ‘saber, and says, simply, “Hello there.”

_ Kriff. _

Rex and the two Mandalorians are  _ moving, _ she vaguely notices, jetpacks on, but she ignores them mostly, focuses in on the floor below, because Grievous is igniting all four of his ‘sabers and attacking and Obi-Wan has a kriffing  _ hole in his chest _ and is  _ not _ prepared for this. She jumps, ignites her own ‘sabers, shouts out, “Hey, ugly! Over here, you karking  _ demagolka!” _

Grievous  _ growls, _ and then does--something, she’s not sure what, but there’s multiple destroyers rolling in, and behind a massive squadron of battle droids, and from the sides of the room come four MagnaGuards, those stupid  _ kriffing _ droids with the electrostaffs, and Ahsoka swears.

Kriff. They are  _ so kriffed. _

~~~

Rex reluctantly decides to follow Bo-Katan’s lead, on this occasion; when she jumps down near Kenobi, he follows, even though he’s kriffing  _ tired _ of jumping voluntarily off of places today.

It’s still a relief to draw both his blasters and head towards Ahsoka and Kenobi, shooting fast and occasionally pausing to roll a droid popper through a destroyer’s shields. Ahsoka is engaging the MagnaGuards and he just keeps half an eye on her, enough that he feels like he’ll see if she needs him. Anakin launches into the fight with Grievous, which is barely more than a blur of light and color.

A destroyer rolls between he and his Jedi, scrambling up onto its spindly legs and engaging its shields, and Rex scrambles back and grabs a grenade, steadies his hand and tosses it lightly across the ground so it slides through the shields and bursts into white light, energy and shrapnel slamming into a squad of B2 droids and one of the MagnaGuards. Rex shoots the downed droids for good measure and turns to keep Bo-Katan and Jak watching his flank, shoots a row of battle droids. He needs a faster way to get the destroyers out of the way, ideally, but he’ll worry about that  _ if _ it becomes a problem, not before.

“Hey,  _ adiik _ , on your right,” Jak growls, and Rex whips his blaster over and fires in concert with Jak until the threat (six or so commando droids) is eliminated.

He glances over at Ahsoka again, keeping the three remaining MagnaGuards occupied, and as he looks she drives one away from the others, towards them, and Rex sees Bo-Katan ready her blasters, take aim at the droid - and Ahsoka slices it in half, then follows through and cuts its head off. Its electrostaff clatters to the ground, sparking, and Rex  _ almost _ grabs it, except it’s a close combat weapon and he would prefer to keep this fight far from close quarters.

Partly so Kix doesn’t poison him.

So Rex just projects a hum of pride toward her, ignores the electrostaff on the ground, and works to stay out of the way of Grievous and his Jedi with their whirling sabers. Bo-Katan and Jak have taken to the air, to hold a better perimeter, but Rex doesn’t because he’s sick of heights and someone needs to take out the destroyers. They’re holding alright, if pressure is high, when he hears shouting and a roar of engines and he  _ smiles _ , accidentally rolls a grenade too hard and it bounces off the destroyer’s shields.  _ Kriff _ , focusing - but the battalions are here, and the Death Watch, flying in over their heads with jetpacks. Rex pulls back closer to Ahsoka, finds she’s just fighting two MagnaGuards now - he holsters his newer DC and picks up one of the fallen electrostaffs, falls in next to and slightly behind her.

_Hey, Soka._ _You’re doing alright over here_.

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t exactly  _ startle, _ when Rex projects to her, but she’s  _ surprised. _ His voice cracks the ice, a little, and lets a bit of the exhaustion creep in; she pushes it back, determined, ducks a stray blaster shot, blocks two electrostaffs.  _ Kind of you to notice, _ she thinks in response, dryly, rolling her eyes a little.

A grenade goes off nearby, and a chunk of debris (twisted and red-hot metal she thinks  _ used _ to be a battle droid) hits the ground  _ right _ next to her--she flinches a little, jerks her ‘sabers up and drives between the two MagnaGuards. This is how they  _ prefer _ to fight, she knows: one engaging the lightsaber, one attacking from behind. But they aren’t used to fighting Jedi with two ‘sabers, and it shows.

The reverse grip she uses on her ‘saber hilts is a disadvantage in some situations, but here and now, it’s a blessing, allowing her to  _ easily _ swing one ‘saber behind her to block without ever turning. She ignores the droid behind her (for the most part, dodging and blocking it when she needs to), sucks in a breath (her side is starting to hurt, and her shoulder is sore from the constant strain on it), reaches for the Force and asks for more speed, more strength, focuses on the other MagnaGuard--a duck underneath its staff, and she swipes out one ‘saber and slices both its legs off at the knee-joints. She grabs onto the Force,  _ pushes, _ knocking it to the ground, cuts off the arm holding the electrostaff before it can try and fight again, and finishes it off by slicing its head off.

And then something heavy and coldly metallic and  _ sparking _ slams across her back and shoulders, sending her sprawling face-down onto the ground  _ hard, _ her ‘sabers flying from her hands and clattering to the floor, and for a moment she can’t  _ breathe, _ there’s stars flashing in her vision and something hot and coppery streams down her face (her nose, she must’ve cracked her nose on something, it’s probably broken, kriffing hells), and she struggles to string together a coherent thought, bringing her arms underneath her (there’s  _ so much blood _ and she feels like she’s choking, even though she isn’t, she  _ knows _ she isn’t but she can’t  _ breathe _ and she’s panting) and starting to push herself onto her knees--

And the end of an electrostaff presses into her back, pins her to the ground, and she can’t  _ move, _ she can’t, it’s  _ shocking her _ and her scars  _ scream _ and she reaches out instinctively for Rex, for Anakin, for  _ somebody, _ because it  _ hurts _ and she’s  _ miscalculated _ and no, no, she  _ can’t-- _

The MagnaGuard’s cold, clawed hand locks around her head, digging into the sensitive skin of her montrals and headtails, and she bites her lip to stifle a whimper (tastes blood, still can’t  _ breathe) _ as the droid tilts her head back until her neck  _ burns _ from the stress, and it’s staring down at her, a durasteel foot on her back now, its electrostaff jammed so firmly into her neck she physically  _ cannot breathe, _ and she’s kriffing  _ going to die, _ she can’t  _ think _ and it all  _ hurts _ and--

And then there’s a voice, a sound, like light, like salvation, like laughter.

_ “Hey, you karking clanker!  _ **_Let. Her. Go.”_ **

And Ahsoka’s lightsaber  _ sings _ as Rex cuts the MagnaGuard in half, his golden eyes molten and  _ flaming _ in her blurred, black-spotted vision.

Kriffing  _ hells, _ she loves that man.

…

Obi-Wan really should  _ know better _ than this, he thinks, than to throw himself into a fight with  _ General Grievous _ of all people, when he can barely walk. Even with Anakin here helping, the fight’s a struggle.

At least with the chaos of the battle going on around them, Grievous can’t pull his spinning-lightsabers trick.

Grievous isn’t particularly skilled with his ‘sabers, honestly--it’s just that he’s fast, and strong, and doesn’t tire, and he has  _ four of them. _ The only Jedi in recent history to wield so many blades was Krell, and that… had not turned out well. This isn’t looking like it’ll turn out well  _ either, _ because both he and Anakin keep forgetting about the droid general’s stupid kriffing  _ legs. _ Like, for example,  _ right now. _

Obi-Wan gasps, his head spinning, white-hot agony stabbing through him, originating from the healing blaster wound in his back, and  _ kriff _ that’s not good; his ‘saber is somehow still in his hand, even though he’s just been kicked into a wall with the approximate force of a heavy durasteel speeder at ninety kilometers an hour. That’s probably the only  _ good _ thing about the situation he currently finds himself in. Because  _ he’s _ against the wall, slumping on the floor, struggling to even  _ inhale, _ which means Anakin is facing Grievous  _ alone. _ The dizzy swirls of light and color and sound in front of him resolve into a slightly-less-blurry scene, and he manages to focus through the pain in time to see Anakin catch all four of Grievous’ ‘sabers on his blue blade, hold it for a moment, then shove back and lunge in to slice one of the droid’s arms off.

Impressive.

“You gonna make me do all the work, Master?” Anakin shouts, though Obi-Wan can feel a steady thread of  _ concern _ across their training bond.

He huffs, manages to get enough of a full breath to heave himself to his feet (kriff, that was a mistake, everything’s spinning again), and he ignites his lightsaber and moves to join the duel again. “You know, Grievous,” he starts conversationally, as though he’s not barely holding himself together, almost falling over, nearly throwing up from the pain, “I must wonder why the welcoming party--did you know we were coming?”

Grievous  _ laughs, _ that awful grating choke that sounds so much like a cough. “Worse, Kenobi--I knew if you  _ did _ come, it would be you and Skywalker, and I knew what strategy you would likely employ.” He lunges, and Obi-Wan barely manages to parry in time, his mind spinning.

“How is that possible?” he wonders aloud, pulls on the Force for strength and speed and pain relief, manages to sneak in and cut off another of Grievous’ arms. “Are we really that predictable?”

The droid general laughs again, kicks Anakin in the side (Obi-Wan  _ swears, _ forces himself to keep engaging the droid and not run over to his former padawan’s side). “No, Kenobi. Dooku has an  _ asset _ that can be persuaded to reveal a great deal of  _ information _ on your battle tactics.”

“What  _ kind _ of asset?” That’s Anakin, who’s recovered and pressing the attack again.

“What makes you think I’d tell  _ you, _ Skywalker?”

Anakin grins,  _ winks, _ kriffing ridiculous. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says airily. “My stunning good looks? My charm?” And, as he strikes again, his fingers twitch in a signal Obi-Wan knows well.  _ Play dead. _

(Not literally, of course.)

So Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, grabs onto the Force, and lets Grievous kick him in the gut, even though it feels like being headbutted by a bantha with a side of being eviscerated by a krayt dragon, lands hard on the unforgiving ground and tries to remember how to  _ breathe, _ and he watches through watering eyes as Anakin lures Grievous back a little, so that his back is completely to Obi-Wan.

And then the signal comes, a tiny hand motion, a nudge across the bond, and Obi-Wan  _ clings _ to the Force and vaults to his feet, silently, launches himself across the gap between himself and the droid general, leaves his ‘saber off--and, at the last possible second, just before the hilt of his ‘saber slams into Grievous’ back-plating, where his organic heart is contained, he depresses the button and lights his blue blade  _ through _ the droid.

Grievous has enough time to  _ laugh, _ once more, harsh and grating, and then the light goes out of his mechanized eyes and he collapses.

Dead.

Collapsing, Obi-Wan thinks, sounds nice right about now. He could use a nice collapse. The planet isn’t  _ helping _ matters any, either; it keeps  _ whirling, _ won’t hold still--aren’t planets supposed to  _ hold still? _ It would be nice. He’d  _ like _ to walk, at least to Anakin--

And then everything  _ blurs _ and when he vision (sort of) clears, he realizes he’s staring at the ceiling. How odd. It’s not even an  _ interesting _ ceiling, just… bland and jagged and rocky, and the ground is the same, come to think of it, stabbing him in all manner of inconvenient and uncomfortable places, and  _ why _ is he down here, how did he even get here?

All very important questions, he thinks, but they can perhaps wait until after he’s had a little rest. Just a little… nap… surely no one will begrudge him that… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Tal: blood
> 
> Haastale: dried blood or scabs (also a term for a lasting emotional scar which tbh we need a term for)
> 
> Skira: revenge, settling a score
> 
> Chaab: fear
> 
> Traat'aliit: squad
> 
> Vaar'ika: pipsqueak
> 
> Ori'ramikad: supercommando
> 
> Sen'tra: jetpack
> 
> Demagolka: war-criminal, someone who does really awful, atrocious stuff


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so in case you hadn't noticed, this fic is now over 100k words. wow. O___O we're really excited to keep sharing this monster with you!
> 
> the fic _is_ now starting to roll on to its end (theoretically, at least? i mean who are we kidding we have no control over any of this), so hold on tight, because it's going to be a ride!

Rex drops to one knee by Ahsoka, glances around at the battle to make sure it's safe to stop (and his troops are everywhere, so that's good, they can handle droids any time), and rolls her over onto her side, rests his hand on her cheek while she heaves for breath. She holds out her hand to him, automatically, and Rex sets her saber in her palm, although he determines he's  _ not _ going to let her get up yet.

“I can't leave you alone for one minute,” he huffs, looking up again, trying to find Kix. He sees his helmet lying on the ground, where it had been knocked off when he was fighting some commando droids, and grabs it, sets it down closer to him.

_ Kriff you, I'm fine _ .

_ No, you're not. Besides, I thought you said you  _ loved me _ , ner’jetii. _

_ Well, you're stupid. _

Rex snorts and stifles the anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach. She's  _ fine _ now, more or less, but still.

He's kriffing  _ tired _ of this.

He sees his friend directing a team of field medics to pick up some wounded while defending them with his saber; Rex raises his hand and shouts, “Kix!”

_ Rex, seriously, I'm okay, I just need to catch my breath. _

“Lie still or I'll make you,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes.

Kix comes running over, swears, and crouches next to Rex, fingers going to Ahsoka's wrist for a pulse.

And Rex looks up in time to see General Kenobi go flying, slam  _ hard _ into the floor, so hard Rex thinks he might just  _ snap _ . He automatically jumps to his feet, sees Anakin keeping Grievous’ attention away from Kenobi, who isn't moving, isn't- Until suddenly he is, clambering back to his feet shakily but steadily, and his movements gain fierce fluidity, purpose, as Anakin holds Grievous’ attention and Obi ignites his saber through Grievous.

And Rex sighs and backs up, kneels back down by Ahsoka.  _ What was that? _

_ That was Grievous dying _ .

_ About kriffing time _ , she says, and Rex laughs a little.

“Shit,” Kix mutters, suddenly, and Rex looks up and follows his eyes to Kenobi lying on the ground, Anakin bending over him. “If he’s killed himself with that stunt…” Kix says, then hesitates before jumping to his feet. “Don’t let her fight,” he says sharply. “I need to help him.”

Rex nods, draws both his blasters and smiles grimly at Ahsoka.  _ If you try to sit up, you’ll regret it _ , he thinks, feeling a hum of impatience from her. This is almost  _ over _ , Bo-Katan and her warriors are gone somewhere, hopefully to track down any CIS leaders they’ve allowed to escape. Rex snipes a few droids now and again, but mostly keeps his focus on Ahsoka, because it turns out that leeching away some of her pain is much trickier than he’d anticipated and hard to maintain.

~~~

_ Shut  _ **_up,_ ** _ Rex, I’m fine, _ Ahsoka grumbles. 

_ You’re  _ **_not_ ** _ fine, you almost died,  _ Rex says back, and the  _ glare _ he gives her is strong enough she thinks maybe trying to sit up anyway would be a bad idea.

Still, she’s  _ irritated, _ and impatient, and she wants to  _ move, _ and also she can’t find her other ‘saber--so she reaches out with one hand and calls for the ‘saber, smiling triumphantly when it smacks into her hand. It’s… more effort than she’d anticipating it being, but she’s  _ fine, _ really. Other than a headache that threatens to turn into a full-blown migraine. And the fact that her nose won’t stop bleeding and also is  _ sore. _ And her throat aches, too, and there’s some bruises on her back and shoulders and… okay, she’s not  _ totally _ fine, but compared to, like, Kadavo? She’s  _ perfect. _

“Ahsoka,” Rex says pointedly, warningly, and he puts one hand on her shoulder.

She glares up at him. “What?”

He just  _ looks at her, _ and doesn’t relent, and she makes a face, sends  _ I’m fine, really, Rexter. _

_ No, you’re not. So just stay there, _ he says back, a bit sharply, almost like he’s straining a bit, and she frowns, reaches a little deeper into his mind.

_ Are you alright? _ He sounds… she’s not sure, but he doesn’t sound quite right, like he’s focusing intently, putting effort into something, and… and  _ kriff _ him. “Rex!”

“What?” he mimics, and that’s  _ not fair. _

“Stop that, it doesn’t hurt that much and you’re  _ wearing yourself out,” _ and she stops because he’s  _ laughing _ a little.

“Well, ‘Soka, now you know how I feel,” he says with a bit of a smirk, and she huffs. “This is harder for me to figure out than it is for you, so hush and let me concentrate.”

This is  _ ridiculous. _ She’s  _ fine. _ Grumbling under her breath, she gets her elbows underneath her and props herself up on them, for about two seconds at least--and then he gently shoves her back down.  _ “Rex,” _ she whines, and he just shakes his head at her. And maybe she shouldn’t talk quite so much, because breathing really  _ is _ hard and her throat feels like a hundred knives are scraping over it every time she says anything, and also there’s still a lingering burning from the electric shock, and to top it all off she’s getting dizzy.  _ Y’know, _ she thinks lazily, tilting her head to nuzzle into his hand,  _ you looked pretty damn hot with my lightsaber. _

~~~

_ Thanks? _ Rex blinks, at least grateful she’s not arguing him on sitting up anymore - but now isn’t exactly the  _ time _ for… flirting, apparently.  _ I think they look better on you _ .

_ I’m not sure about that. That was very “knight in shining armor” come to the rescue, it was awesome _ . She sounds amused, and tired, but weirdly earnest about it, so Rex sends another awkward  _ thanks _ .

He’s definitely not gone red at all, that wouldn’t be  _ professional _ of him.

_ You should let me sit up, I wanna kiss you _ .

_ The  _ **_kriff_ ** _ , Soka- and no, you can’t. Stay down. _ Rex doesn’t even know what’s  _ happening _ but she’s being kind of cute. Again, not the best timing for that and it’s  _ distracting _ , which isn’t great as he’s  _ trying _ to hold off some of her pain still because without him he thinks she’d probably have a migraine just now.

_ Look, we’re winning, and I didn’t die, and you were  _ amazing _. So I’m happy. _

_ You’re  _ **_ridiculous_ ** _ , is what it is _ , Rex thinks, rolling his eyes.  _ And concussed _ .

She snorts, waves one of her hands a little, and he looks around again; Kenobi is looking okay, at least; he’s apparently okay enough that Kix has left some other medics with him and is looking over Anakin - who Rex can tell is  _ annoyed _ .

Kriffing General has taught his padawan too much.

~~~

Rex, Ahsoka thinks, is being really kind of an idiot. _It’s not_ ** _ridiculous,_** she grumbles, adjusting herself so she can peer up at him through her lashes. _I’m happy, and still kinda high on adrenaline, and you’re adorable, so…_

He’s  _ definitely _ turning red now, which just makes him look more adorable in her opinion (and her opinion is the important one, she’s the one who sleeps with him, which… that’s not exactly what she meant, but whatever), and kriff it. She tries to push herself up again, but he doesn’t even let her get off the ground, just pins her down again with a hand on her chest, and really it’s  _ embarrassing _ that that’s all he has to do to pin her down right now. Kriff. She’s probably more tired than she’d realized.  _ Kriff, Soka, _ Rex sends, vaguely annoyed, and she rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him.

And no, she doesn’t  _ care _ that that’s immature.

Kix comes back over after a minute, kneels down beside her, and she glares up at him. “Kriffing let me  _ up,” _ she complains, winces a little, her throat hoarse and raw. “I’m  _ fine.” _

~~~

“Why are you like this,” Kix sighs, glancing with some amusement at Rex, which probably means he's still red, which is… Yeah, embarrassing. “You  _ will _ be fine, but right now I'm not letting you do anything stupid. Which includes sitting up.”

_ I told you you were being ridiculous _ , Rex says, smugly, feels sharp annoyance and a dirty Mando’a phrase that he definitely did  _ not _ teach her at any point. Kriffing… kriffing Fives.

“And I'm checking you out too, Rex. You've done too much today with that gut injury.” Kix sounds as pleased as if he knew what he's just said to Ahsoka.

“I haven't reopened it or anything, Kix, I can tell.”

“That wasn't what I said, Captain.”

_ Haar’chak. _

_ So there, _ Ahsoka thinks, giving him a self-satisfied smile.

_ I'm fine _ , Rex grumbles half-heartedly. Although in all honesty, now that he's paying attention and has stopped compartmentalizing so much, his stomach does  _ hurt _ . So alright, he'll let Kix look at him. And he'll ignore Ahsoka smirking at him because  _ honestly, _ she  _ confuses _ him. She has a concussion and she's just been electrocuted extensively but yes, now is clearly the right time for her to tease him. And flirt with him.

He kriffing  _ loves _ her.

Kix gives Ahsoka a canteen, has her take a few sips, than injects her with a painkiller because having her swallow pills right now would hurt and would take too long to work. Rex hangs onto the edges of her pain until they start fuzzing out thanks to the painkillers, then lets go.

Ahsoka winces and glares at him, eyes narrowing.  _ You really shouldn't have done that _ .

_ And yet here we are _ , he thinks, winks at her.

She  _ hmph _ s and closes her eyes, and Rex laughs a little before Kix turns his attention to him. “Commander, do  _ not  _ try sitting up while I'm treating Rex or I'm going to make one of my other men sit on you.”

~~~

Ahsoka hums a little, considers trying it anyway for a moment, and then sighs. The room is… fuzzy, everything’s a bit fuzzy, and she feels almost like she’s  _ floating, _ and… this is nice, she thinks, sleepily, and some part of her  _ knows _ it’s from the painkillers but whatever. “Mm, nah,” she yawns, reaches up and lightly catches one of Rex’s hands, tugging it down to tuck around her cheek. “I think… ‘m tired.”

“I know you are,” Kix says, sounds more soothing now, less  _ I’m going to sit on you, _ “but you need to stay awake for me, alright? Just until we get back to the  _ Resolute.” _

She grumbles almost inaudibly, mumbles, “Why,” because she’s  _ tired, _ and everything’s so soft and  _ floaty, _ and she closes her eyes and drifts a little.

Kix says something else, she doesn’t catch  _ what, _ but she thinks she knows the meaning because Rex starts nudging her mind, and that’s  _ annoying, _ and she grumbles at him again.

_ Go ‘way. _

_ Sorry, _ he sends, almost  _ cheerfully, no can do. _

_ I hate you. _ It takes too much  _ energy _ to send definitive words, phrases, so she just projects the impression, thoughts-feelings-sensations all wrapped up in one, which is  _ easier _ anyway.  _ You’re the one who wanted me to stay back and sleep earlier. _

~~~

_ Well, you didn't listen, so now you aren't allowed to sleep _ , Rex informs her stubbornly. Kix needs her awake still, and Rex is going to do his best-  _ ow _ .

“Kix, for kriff’s sake,” he hisses.

“I'm  _ trying _ to be careful,” Kix says, not quite an apology. Rex sighs and presses very grumpy and prickly against Ahsoka's thoughts, hauls her stubbornly back from sleep. It's an effort, and she sends an impression of deep frustration.

_ Oh, shut up, cyare, you're fine _ , he grumbles at her, and he feels her rouse a little more, get slightly offended.

_ Leave me alone, _ she says, and he chuckles to himself. She still feels like she's drifting and just going to fall asleep. And she has a fast hold of his hand against her. His precious Soka.

“Well, you're more or less okay,” Kix says, holding out his canteen and some pills. Rex takes them and swallows the pills down with water, presses a memory at Ahsoka of Fives making a rude comment about their relationship and how Rex had given him latrine duty for it, but even Ahsoka’s outrage isn't enough to pull her awake.

“I think she just needs the med bay,” Rex says, with a sigh, and Kix glances around.

“Agreed. That group over there is heading back now; you can go join them, they'll get you out to the surface.” Rex nods and, still making an effort to keep Ahsoka awake, stands, lets Kix pick up Ahsoka since she's still holding his hand hostage. “You should just go with her, Captain,” Kix says, and Rex hesitates.

He doesn't want to leave her, and this is all clean-up, and he's injured, and she has his hand, so- “Okay.”

~~~

Rex presses an impression into Ahsoka’s mind, firm enough to make her  _ focus, _ but it still takes her a moment to understand--he can’t carry her unless she lets go of his hand.

She doesn’t  _ want to. _

But he’s right, she thinks, and Kix needs to--stay here, she thinks. He does. There’s… others who need help.  _ Don’t let go, _ she thinks vaguely, feels his agreement, and she releases his hand for long enough for him to grab her from Kix (Kix is probably glaring, she thinks, and if she wasn’t so  _ tired _ she’d want to see the look on his face), winds her arm around his back, leans heavily into his chest armor. She wants to  _ sleep. _

Rex is trying his hardest to keep her awake, and a part of her knows  _ why, _ because head injuries, but… but she’s  _ tired _ and her head still throbs dully even through the foggy haze of morphine and she can almost swear she feels the ghost of a collar around her neck, and she wants to  _ sleep, _ she doesn’t want to be awake, she doesn’t, she doesn’t.

Someone bumps into Rex’s arm, jostles her enough to make her broken nose hit his armor, and she whimpers a little, because  _ ow kriff _ that hurts. Kriff. Ow, ow, ow. Another reason to want to sleep: broken noses  _ suck. _

_ No, ‘Soka, _ Rex sends, but he’s tired too, and getting easier to ignore, and so she hums a bit and pulls back from his mind just enough that he can’t be  _ prickly _ anymore, and she’s so  _ exhausted _ and everything’s a numb blur of sensation and she’s  _ cold _ (and she shivers a little, curls tighter against Rex) and she just wants to  _ float. _

So Ahsoka lets out a soft breath and, before Rex can try and annoy her awake again, lets the seductive softness of oblivion claim her.

~~~

When Scratch sees Rex walk into the  _ Resolute’s _ med bay with Ahsoka in his arms, for a minute Rex can't understand why Scratch looks so appalled - and then he realizes it's all the  _ blood _ .

“What happened?” Scratch snaps, rushing over, and Rex shakes his head.

“It's not as bad as it looks, Scratch. She broke her nose. And she has a concussion and she's been electrocuted. And a lot of bruises.”

Scratch comes over, takes a better look at her (Rex tries futilely to dig into her thoughts and pull her awake again), and then glares at Rex. “If she has a concussion she needs to be  _ awake _ right now, Captain, until we know how bad the concussion is.”

“I tried, Scratch, and I'm trying to wake her up again, but she's  _ really _ tired.”

Scratch looks confused for a second, then nods suddenly and waves his hand. “Well, try harder. And get her over to this bunk here and I'll have my medics look her over.”

Rex nods and shifts his grip on Ahsoka, glad for the pain meds Kix gave him. She's dreaming, something about that little girl she showed him she wanted, and Rex has to be careful not to be pulled into the dream because it's soft and drowsy and happy - and he grabs onto her with a twinge of guilt and tries to yank her out of the dream because she's not supposed to sleep. But she's pulled enough away from him and shielded enough that she just  _ grumbles _ all through her thoughts and pushes him out.

So that's wonderful.

Rex lays her down on the bunk, struggles to get her to  _ let go _ of him (and that takes some poking around in her thoughts until she pulls her arm back and curls up a little), and pulls a blanket over her. She reaches for him, mentally, just a little, and he sighs and finds a chair, sits down next to her bunk, and puts his hand back against her cheek.

He tells himself he's pushing back into her thoughts to try to wake her up, but he  _ knows _ that's a futile effort at this point and he kind of just wants to feel her, see what she's dreaming of.

~~~

Everything is slow and lazy and  _ soft, _ sleepy, awash in liquid golden sunlight, and Ahsoka hums, smiles and leans into Rex’s shoulder. Tahla’s playing with a kyber crystal on the warm-wooden floor, levitating it cheerfully into the air and making it spin in patterns around her head.

_ Youngling exercises? _ Rex hums, and she nudges him with her shoulder, grins a little.

_ Of course. _ She’d always  _ hated _ them, but she has to admit it’s more  _ fun _ with a kyber crystal (that could technically resonate and blow up at any moment, but this one  _ likes _ Tahla and so she doesn’t think it’ll blow up before she can even make it into a ‘saber).  _ If it ain’t broke… _

_ You didn’t tell me you’re letting our daughter play with a possible bomb, _ he says, quirks a brow at her, faux-annoyed, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

_ As if I’d let anything happen to her. _

“Mama,” the four-year-old asks, taking her golden eyes off the kyber crystal, “when do  _ I  _ get to make my own  _ jetii’kad?” _

Ahsoka’s lips curl into a smile, entirely without her permission, and she shakes her head. “When you’re ready, Tahl’ika, and not before.”

_ “Buir,” _ the little girl complains. “But I’m  _ four, _ ‘m old enough now!”

This is a common argument, unfortunately, and Ahsoka rolls her eyes a little (hides that in Rex’s shoulder).  _ You know, cyare, when I was four I was already bulls-eyeing targets with a blaster, _ Rex thinks, and that’s  _ not applicable. _

_ You were also created to be a soldier, so… _ She glares pointedly up at him.  _ Hush. _

“But  _ mama, _ Kix says I’m old ‘nough!”

“Kix doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Rex growls.

“Dad- _ dy,” _ Tahla whines, huffs, and the kyber crystal crashes to the ground. “Look what you made me do!”

“That wasn’t anyone’s fault but yours, Tahl’ika,” Ahsoka says, leaning forward. “You let your emotions get the better of you, and you lost control, lost your focus.  _ That _ is why you aren’t ready to build a lightsaber yet.”

Tahla winces and looks down at the mild reprimand and mumbles, “Sorry,  _ buir.” _

“Apology accepted, little’un,” Rex says with a soft smile, slipping his arm around Ahsoka, and she smiles quietly and leans back into him.

All is well with the world.

~~~

Rex has to pull back a little from Ahsoka’s mind because he finds himself  _ aching _ . A few medics are coming over to them and Rex tries to settle his expression into something easier, although his throat hurts a little and it’s hard to swallow.

_ Soka _ , he thinks, although she isn’t listening at all.  _ Damnit, ner’jetii _ ,  _ I love you _ .

She needs to wake up, still, but he’ll let the medics worry about that. Which they apparently are doing - worrying, that is - because they all have a smaller, less experienced version of Kix’s threatening frown on their faces. One of them takes Ahsoka’s arm gently, but without ceremony, and injects her with something; it’s just a second before she jolts awake,  _ fast _ , grabs onto Rex’s wrist, eyes darting wildly around before landing on his face.

**_Kriff_ ** _ ,  _ she thinks emphatically, and Rex smiles a little, soothes over her thoughts.

_ I told you you needed to stay awake, _ he thinks. His throat still aches, and he decides not to think about  _ why _ just now. Too many people here.

_ Ow. _ She projects a series of impressions, a general irritation and  _ I was having a nice dream and you pulled me out _ .

_ Not me, _ he says.  _ And I know. Sorry _ .

~~~

Ahsoka recognizes the surge of adrenaline, the jitters and sudden restlessness, the way her heart pounds a galloping, erratic pace in her chest, as the effects of a stim shot; the drug does what it’s supposed to, which is wake her body up  _ fast, _ but her mind still clings determinedly to the last dregs of sleep, the already-fading tatters of her dream. The details are already slipping beyond grasp, but she remembers a few things with startling clarity, including the name she’d given the little girl  _ (Tahla, _ she’d called her, and it’d rolled off her tongue so easily, so naturally, as though she’d been saying it all her life), and she clutches those pieces close, holds them in her heart to treasure. 

Her head  _ hurts, _ even with the morphine still in her system, and she doesn’t even want to  _ try _ talking; she closes her eyes against the bright white lights of the medbay and the way her brain and eyes can’t seem to agree on if there’s one or two Rexes at her bedside. Kriff.  _ Why’d you let them? _ she asks, a bit petulantly, cracking one eye open just enough to get a general impression of where Rex’s hand is so she can grab it again.  _ I want to sleep. _

_ You know why, _ he says, and she  _ does, _ but that’s not the point.  _ Can you open your eyes for the medics? _

Of  _ course _ he asks that.  _ No, _ she grumbles.  _ Double vision makes me nauseous. _

She feels a sort of commiserating understanding from him, but he squeezes her hand and insists anyway.  _ They need to see your pupils. _

_ Kriff you, _ she thinks, and then she reaches for the fragments of the dream again, strings them together--she can’t fall asleep, not with the stim, but she can at least let her mind retreat into the golden-bright warm laziness of her dreams.

~~~

_ For kriff’s sake, cyare _ . Rex sighs and, with an apologetic wince, pulls stubbornly on the bond until she’s forced to focus on him instead of the dream, which Rex knows isn’t the  _ kindest _ .

_ Rex _ , she whines, frustrated, and he sends a twinge of regret before setting up shields around the dream and sending an impression of crossed arms.

_ Open your eyes and let them check on you, ner’jetii _ .

She feels  _ upset _ but if she’s upset at him she’s focused, so he accepts it, nudges her stubbornly until she does open her eyes so the medics don’t have to peel her eyelids back. She’s trying to get him to let his shields down around the dream and he  _ wants _ to, but he can’t because she needs to pay enough attention to answer the medic’s questions, which are very  _ basic _ . He thinks she doesn’t even remember the whole dream, so he tries to give back what he has of it - and still doesn’t let her go back to it.

_ Kriffing let them treat you, Soka _ .

_ Give it back _ , she thinks, sharp, and he sighs and shakes his head.

_ Sorry. _

She’s getting steadily more pissed at him, but also more awake, so Rex will take what he can get. “You have a moderate concussion, Commander,” one of the medics says, and Ahsoka thinks  _ Shavit _ .

Rex traces his thumb over her cheekbone, ignoring how that makes the medics seem a little uncomfortable, and says, “She got an electrostaff pushed into her spine for a while too. Had trouble breathing, I think, since she was being stood on. She had the staff on her throat too for a minute, so… I don’t think she’s doing the best. Bruises most places. And her shoulder’s messed up again.”

The medics nod. “And a broken nose, I see,” one of them sighs, a 501st medic Rex thinks is named Sniper.

“Yeah,” Rex says, glancing down at his armor. Cracked pauldron, drying blood - he has a lot to fix here. At least he’s no more than bruised, this time around.

~~~

_ Okay, there, I let them look at me, _ Ahsoka sends, irritably.  _ Can I have it  _ **_back_ ** _ now? _

A part of her  _ understands _ why he’s wrapped shields around her dream, so she can’t fall back into it, but that’s so  _ rude _ and she kriffing  _ wants it back. _ She’s tired and frustrated and she  _ hurts _ and she’s sick and tired of getting injured.  _ Well, maybe you should be more careful, then, cyare, _ Rex says lightly, and that’s  _ not helpful, _ thank you very much.  _ And no, you can’t. Sorry. _ (He doesn’t sound particularly sorry.)

And, for some reason, that makes her  _ angry. _ “You’re a karking  _ asshole, _ Rex,” she snaps out, hoarse and raw and low because  _ holy kriff _ talking hurts, and she closes her eyes before she can see the  _ hurt _ that flickers briefly across his face, before she can see the way the medics look at each other in confusion, and she  _ breathes, _ short and sharp, pulls away from his hands and rolls onto her side, facing the wall. Drags up shields with strength mustered from  _ somewhere, _ because for some reason she’s angry and frustrated and she’s not sure  _ why-- _

(That’s a lie, partially. She can still  _ feel _ the staff, pressing into her throat, blackness crowding the colors from her vision, the droid on her back heavy and inevitable as Fate, the sickening realization that in her effort to destroy one she’d forgotten the other, that she is  _ going to die here, _ she is going to die and she can’t  _ do anything, _ she’s helpless, she’d never wanted to be helpless again--)

\--and she swallows  _ hard, _ even though that aches, because her throat  _ burns _ with tears she can’t,  _ won’t _ let out, all the emotions balling up and choking her, and she can’t quite breathe around everything, all the feelings she doesn’t know  _ why _ she’s feeling. She--she doesn’t really  _ understand, _ doesn’t know what’s  _ wrong, _ she doesn’t. She  _ doesn’t. _ She--she wants to be alone. She  _ does. _

~~~

Ahsoka is so  _ upset _ , suddenly, more than Rex had thought, so he guiltily eases down his shields and pulls back from the memory of the dream so she can have it back; she curls back up in the golden warmth of it so fast he startles. Rex lets himself ease further out of her thoughts because she feels like she wants to be alone. Never mind that he sort of wants to slip into the dream with her, because it was  _ nice _ and he  _ wants _ that future (and how dangerous it is, he thinks, admitting you want something that elusive).

The medics look at him like they want him to tell them what to do, and he sighs, hesitates. “Just do what you can,” he says. Because he can see bruises forming on her montrals and her neck is  _ burnt _ again and he feels a sort of dim all-over pain and he just wants them to get her back to normal.

Ahsoka reaches back out to him, a little, from her daydream, and he latches on and eases into her thoughts again, except seeing the little girl again, little Tahla, with her bright,  _ bright _ smile and golden-brown eyes makes him pull back, not even on purpose just a flinch, his stomach suddenly  _ twisted _ , chest aching, because he wants, he wants, he wants. It’s peace and it’s warmth and summer and comfort and he  _ can’t have it _ so he drags himself back, clings to other corners of her mind and tries latching onto what pain the meds aren’t taking care of.

She almost doesn’t notice - almost, but then she reaches back for him from her dream and clings onto the bond, sends a series of emotions and impressions that amounts to  _ stay, please _ .

And of course he has to stay, so he swallows and eases back into the memory.

Ahsoka’s expanded on it, including his house that he’s dreamed of and some flowers and Tahla is scrambling onto her lap to be held but Rex just doesn’t feel right. Ahsoka leans into his side and he automatically soothes his hand up and down her shoulder, even though none of this is real and she feels  _ off _ and he doesn’t even want to look at all this. And Ahsoka doesn’t seem to  _ notice _ that he doesn’t want to be here, which is… strange. Worrying.

“Daddy, look!”

He looks over at Tahla, who has a flower clutched so hard in her hand she’s crushing it, but she looks proud- and it’s hard to remember this isn’t real and Rex’s gut says this isn’t a good idea to get lost in, this dream. “That’s nice,” he says anyway, forcing a smile.

_ Soka, we shouldn’t do this _ , he thinks.

And then there’s a light touch on his shoulder and he jerks out of Ahsoka’s mind, fast, twists to see General Kenobi and Anakin by Ahsoka’s bunk. Kenobi looks very worried. “Let me talk to her, Captain,” he says, tiredly, and Anakin looks like he wants to object. Rex quickly scoots back, acquiescing with a silent nod.

~~~

When Anakin had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that  _ if you don’t kriffing behave, I’m going to drag your recalcitrant ass to the medbay, _ Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to  _ behave. _ For one thing, he  _ knows _ Anakin is angry when he starts using Padme-level words; for another, he really  _ does _ hurt, and he thinks a nice rest would probably help that. (Also, he thinks Satine would possibly  _ eviscerate _ him if he didn’t go.)

He  _ hadn’t _ expected to walk into the medbay and get hit with a flood of--he’s not entirely sure how to quantify the emotions, but they’re intense and powerful and tightly contained and all coming from Ahsoka, where she’s curled up on a bunk with her back to Captain Rex. Rex has his eyes closed, an expression of deep focus on his face, and so Obi-Wan is careful to be light and gentle when he touches the clone’s shoulder. Rex still flinches, twists to see who it is, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even  _ try _ to muster up a smile. “Let me talk to her, Captain,” he says softly, and Rex practically  _ flees, _ which is… something he would  _ like _ to have the energy to worry about.

Anakin isn’t pleased with this turn of events, but he doesn’t object, more than likely because he can feel the same whirlwind of  _ not good. _ Obi-Wan takes the chair Rex has just vacated, leans forward slightly. “Ahsoka?” he says gently, reaching one hand out and laying it on her temple, reaching through the Force for her mind even though he probably  _ shouldn’t. _ “Ahsoka, I need to talk to you.”

He’s hit with  _ shields _ and a strong impression of  _ go away, leave me alone, _ and he can feel enough of the shape of her thoughts to discern she’s curled up in a dream, a coping mechanism that, quite frankly,  _ worries _ him. This is worse than he’d thought.

“Ahsoka,  _ wake up,” _ he commands, his voice heavy with the Force, and she’s vulnerable enough that the Force-suggestion works, pulls her out of her dream. “Ahsoka, you  _ can’t _ stay there,” he says softer, now, because he knows this is hard to hear. “It’s not going to go away just because you ignore it. You can’t  _ will it _ away.”

“Kriffing leave me  _ alone,” _ Ahsoka whispers, her voice raw.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he says gently. “What’s wrong, Ahsoka?”

“Nothing,” she rasps, and that’s  _ such _ a lie Obi-Wan doesn’t even know where to start.

_ This, Master, _ Anakin says quietly, flashes a memory he’s pulled from her mind:  _ the MagnaGuard’s heavy, clawed foot on her back, its hand wrenching her head back and up, nose pouring blood thick and choking across her lips, electrostaff jabbed so tight against her throat, and she can’t  _ **_breathe,_ ** _ and she’s going to die, and she  _ **_knew_ ** _ she shouldn’t come on this mission, she wasn’t prepared, but she came anyway and she miscalculated and now she’s going to die and that shouldn’t--this is war, death is always a possibility, she shouldn’t be so  _ **_terrified_ ** _ of it. _

And kriff, oh kriff, that’s not  _ good. _ “Ahsoka,” he tries again, carefully, “there’s no shame in making a mistake, nor is there any shame in being afraid of death.”

“I don’t want to  _ fight anymore,” _ she whimpers, suddenly, hoarse and wretched like it’s been  _ ripped _ out of her, and she curls in on herself more and he thinks she might be crying. “I just want it to be  _ over _ but it never  _ ends.” _

And he  _ shudders, _ a little, because he’s felt the same thing himself, at times; he’s found himself feeling like everything’s hopeless and pointless and there’s no future, no end in sight. Like he’s going to be a soldier until he either dies a casualty of battle or shatters beneath the weight of all the lost lives. Like his life’s legacy will always and forever be that of the  _ Negotiator, _ of  _ General Kenobi, _ of the warrior he’s never wanted to be, the man who smiles cheerfully from behind the safety of his glowing blue blade as his men follow him to their deaths.

“I--I thought,” Ahsoka continues, a little stronger, now, “that when Sidious died--the war would be over, but it just… it doesn’t  _ end. _ We keep losing so  _ much _ and it doesn’t  _ matter, _ it doesn’t make a difference what we do, and I just--I don’t want it anymore.”

And he  _ understands, _ he really does, but… “There  _ is _ a point, Ahsoka,” he says, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Remember the colonists on Kiros? They are peaceful, artists and craftsmen--they don’t know how to fight. You I’m  _ certain _ remember well the fate that would’ve befallen them, had we not fought on their behalf. That is why we fight, Ahsoka, that is why the Jedi are part of this war: because one of the central tenets of our Code is the protection of the innocent, the keeping of the peace. We  _ choose _ to take the pain, to endure the losses and hardships and trials, so that children like Miik don’t have to.” She rolls to look at him, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes hollow and twisted, and he slowly pushes himself to stand (because he  _ hurts _ and Scratch is  _ glaring _ and he can’t quite breathe properly), meeting her gaze, steady and still. “It’s up to you, and only you, to decide for yourself if that choice is worth it.”

And then he nods to Scratch, Anakin, allows the two of them to help him over to a bunk and lay down, and he can only hope what he’s said is  _ enough. _

…

Consciousness comes and goes, like waves over a beach; sometimes, he thinks  _ himself _ is like the beach, the grains of sand, and every time the wave retreats and lets him  _ exist _ again, it sucks away bits of him. He thinks this, this gradual erosion of his mind, it should probably bother him, worry him, and sometimes it  _ does, _ but sometimes it  _ doesn’t. _ Sometimes, he thinks it would be easiest to just  _ let go, _ to stop fighting the waves and the words and the voice he can never keep out, even though he  _ tries. _ Sometimes, he forgets why he  _ can’t _ let go.

Sometimes, he doesn’t  _ care. _

Today is a better day than before, he thinks, though, because today he actually remembers his  _ name, _ he remembers he  _ has _ a name, he remembers his brothers--he remembers enough to know that this is a  _ bad sign, _ because when he doesn’t remember he can’t  _ say anything, _ he’s safe, he’s empty and useless and left alone, he can’t betray them. Can’t betray his General, his battalion, his squad, his  _ ori’vod. _

But  _ he _ always seems to know when it’s one of these days, and  _ he _ will always come, and so CT-21-0408, sometimes known as Echo, these days known as  _ Priority Asset #1, _ tries not to have these days. It’s better if he forgets. If he lets the waves sweep him all away, until he’s nothing but dust. If he forgets it, he can’t tell  _ him. _ So he usually closes his eyes and drowns again, pleads with the ocean to strip him away.

It is the one form of resistance he can muster.

_ He, _ the nameless one, sometimes known as Count Dooku, supposed to be known as  _ Master _ or  _ Lord, _ is very good at causing pain, at punishing, and Priority Asset #1 (once upon a time they called him Echo) is often punished for trying to forget. But he  _ has _ to forget. It’s not safe to remember.

But he is awake right now, and he remembers, and right now he knows  _ he, _ the nameless one, isn’t  _ here. _ He is safe right now, he can  _ remember, _ and so he opens the little tiny box in the back of his mind, the box he hides a single comm-frequency in, and a plan, and coordinates and the name of a planet that he once overheard. He locked it all inside the box, because if  _ he _ knew, if the Master knew,  _ he’d _ wipe away the memories, hide them, take them  _ out, _ because Priority Asset #1 doesn’t need to know where he is. Priority Asset #1 doesn’t need to know  _ anything, _ except that he is an asset and he is to give what information he’s requested to give and he is the Master’s now.

But CT-21-0408  _ does. _

He has tried many times to make this plan work, but always he’s timed it wrong, and the Master, no, and  _ he, _ the nameless  _ he, _ always finds out, always punishes him, always reconfigures his mind again, and it takes him too long to remember himself, too long to know how to open the box, too long to  _ care. _ During that time he  _ is _ Priority Asset #1, he gives the Master whatever the Master needs to know and sometimes he gives the general (the wrong general, the metal one, never his General, never never never) the information, and sometimes they ask him questions he doesn’t know and he gets punished for that, too. He isn’t allowed to  _ not know, _ he isn’t allowed to  _ forget. _ If he forgets he isn’t an asset, and everybody knows what happens to assets who aren’t assets anymore, termination, or maybe not, maybe something  _ else, _ maybe the Master will rewrite his mind and make him a plant and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, so he has to  _ remember _ but he can’t betray them and so he lets the waves have him, he prays he will drown in the sea, that he will close his eyes and never wake up.

Echo shakes his head (he is Echo today). Today he will try again, to put his plan in action, because he  _ knows _ the Master--Dooku, he  _ knows _ Dooku is gone, Dooku is somewhere, there was a battle, a meeting, secret things Priority Asset #1 doesn’t need to know about, but the Master and the metal general wanted to know what would happen if the Jedi learned and he’d been Priority Asset #1 that day, he’d been  _ not Echo, _ and he’d  _ told them, _ just like that, because pain hurts and he doesn’t want pain and he needs to do what the Master says.

He will be punished again for leaving the rooms, but that’s alright. It will only take him a moment to complete the modifications: he needs to reprogram the audio feed on the security camera in his cell to broadcast on the comm frequency he hides in his box. And then he has to forget he’s done it. It’s simple. Easy.

He leaves the room, limps to the room that controls the feeds--he’s snuck in here before, to turn his feed off, because he doesn’t like them watching. There’s no one in here yet, but he’ll only have  _ seconds, _ he has to program it and then make it look like he’s trying to shut it off before they come back, and his fingers  _ fly _ over the screens and he breathes hard and--and--

And he thinks maybe it  _ works. _

And then he tucks that all away, in the box inside his box where he keeps his most precious memories.

The guard comes in and Echo blinks, flinches, freezes, “I’m sorry sir I just didn’t want them  _ watching,” _ because they  _ always watch _ and he just wants his feed  _ off, _ he doesn’t want them to  _ see him. _

“The Count will be informed of this,” the guard says, and  _ no, oh no. _ No no no.

He pleads for them  _ not to, _ but they don’t listen, they take him back and secure him and he  _ hates _ the cuffs, hates it, hates this, and there’s time that he doesn’t know because he’s  _ drowning, _ and part of him wishes he could just keep holding his breath, but the Master doesn’t  _ let  _ that happen, ever, never, never.

The Master comes in, and Priority Asset #1 shrinks back against the wall, trembling, because he  _ knows _ what’s going to happen. This is  _ always _ what happens when he disobeys orders. “I’m sorry, Master,” he tries, but the Master doesn’t  _ care, _ the Master holds one hand out in a claw and there’s  **_pain!_ ** It screams sharp and electric over his body and he babbles, ingrained habits he can’t forget, “CT-21-0408, ARC-lieutenant, CT-21-0408, ARC-lieutenant, CT-21-0408--” and he can’t  _ breathe _ he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he’s not supposed to  _ say that _ he’s not that anymore he’s just Priority Asset #1 he belongs to the Master and--

And the voice is back, inside his head, tugging on things and he  _ screams _ because it needs to  _ get out now! _ but it won’t and it doesn’t and then it laughs and says, “Why would you want to know you’re on Mustafar, Priority Asset #1?”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t  _ want to, _ doesn’t want to know, he’ll forget it, there’s pain and he doesn’t want the pain and he’ll do  _ anything, please, just make it stop, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll forget it, I won’t remember, I’ll be good, please please please make it stop. _

“Good,” the Master says silkily. “I didn’t think you wanted to know. Be silent, all that babbling and screaming is giving me a headache.”

Be silent. That’s an order. He is good, he listens to the Master’s orders.  _ Be silent. _

Priority Asset #1  _ is. _

(And, back on the  _ Resolute, _ Anakin Skywalker’s personal comm starts beeping.)

~~~

Rex sits at a table in the mess with a cup of  _ gal _ and traces his finger over the rim, staring at the pale golden liquid. Something has drawn tight like a band of durasteel around his chest, and he isn't sure  _ why _ . He's glad to get out of Ahsoka's dream, away from that little girl and the flowers and all of it but he hardly knows why, only that it's too much. He swallows some of the  _ gal _ , feels it burn thrilling down his throat, sighs.

Ahsoka, his Soka, is fine, so why does he feel like he’s balancing on the edge of something horrible? She’s not in any danger, just hurt. He hasn’t lost her, he saved her, and that should be enough.

And yet he feels like he can’t look at that dream, can’t think about a  _ child _ , a little girl, a precious thing with lively eyes, someone who loves him and needs him, a tiny life that he created, that he has to protect - it’s  _ too much _ . It hurts somewhere deep and it shouldn’t, shouldn’t feel like that. He wants it, so why does it feel like such a  _ dangerous _ thing, the thought of peace and of Ahsoka curled against his side and children?

But he recoils from it again, tries to focus on… on what? This battle’s done, no one needs him right now. He can hear, vague, the sounds of the troops coming back, of transports docking and orders shouted and that means it’s all actually  _ done _ . They’re leaving this Force-forsaken planet. He has  _ time _ .

And everything that he should let out of the back of his mind, all the tiredness and… and other things, they  _ burn _ , and he drinks more of his  _ gal _ and grits his teeth and stares at the table so hard he sees nothing but a blur in front of his eyes.

Ahsoka almost died again today. He’d turned and seen her and he ran with the full force of his anger - but more than that, his dread. Ice and sickness and horror and desperation because he would not, would not, would not take this. Would not watch her die, would not lose her, would not-  _ couldn’t kriffing take anymore _ .

He twists his hand tight around his cup, which is nearing empty, and fights back a shudder. He can’t have that future she keeps imagining, and there was a reason he’d never let himself dream of it before, because the war has to be enough. Because he knows, has known his whole life, that it’s all  _ useless _ ,  _ pointless,  _ that this is all he will ever have.

_ Having  _ means there is something to  _ lose _ , and he has so much to lose. And he’s only making it worse, imagining children (a girl, a girl named Tahla, who grins at him and shows him flowers and wants him to hold her), because now this child of Ahsoka’s dream is something he can lose too.

She has fingers on his heart and his imagination and he shoves the image of her far down, well out of his way, his hand tightening so much on his cup that his knuckles burn and the aluminum shifts. No. No, he’s done. He’s done with this game where he looks ahead, imagines things he can’t have, makes them his future. He’s done pretending he has any control of this, that this will ever leave him whole, with her. He is owed nothing, has never been, and it’s  _ laughably _ childish to pretend. Nausea sticking against his ribs, throat aching, he looks up from the table and sees  _ him _ .

Fives, sitting a few tables away, looking confused and hollow, as he always does. Rex blinks, shakes his head, tries to look away because he knows this is madness, this isn’t  _ good _ , and this is why he keeps things  _ back _ , out of his head, out of the way.

No room for them, because he is a soldier. Just a soldier, just a clone.

“Hey, Rex.”

Fives gets up from his table, walks over with the easy confidence he’s always had, and sits down across from him. Rex ignores him because this is  _ not real _ and if he just waits Fives will eventually leave him alone. He always does.

“Look at you. The brave Captain with his  _ jaig eyes _ and fancy armor. Had enough of being hurt yet? Had enough  _ pain? _ ”

Rex tightens his jaw, stares down at the table, pushes his  _ gal _ a little away from him.  _ Shut up, Fives, go away. You aren’t real _ .

“What are you going to tell her,  _ sir _ , that you can’t love her because it  _ hurts you? _ I’ve known you were a coward for a long time, but  _ this _ .”

He can’t take losing her. That’s the thing, it’s too much. He  _ loves _ her, she’s  _ his Soka, _ his Jedi, the best thing he’s ever had. And every time he comes close to losing her it near  _ kills _ him, it  _ will _ kill him when he does lose her. Every time they come closer to ending the war there is just more loss and one day it will be her and then- then he loses that future too, loses the girl and the house and the stupid, stupid things that he’s dreamed of since  _ Kadavo _ .

“You remember what happened on Kadavo?” Fives says harshly. “You  _ gave up _ so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Why don’t you just do that again, save your own precious skin, like you did on Umbara and Kadavo and earlier when you saw the slavers again.” Rex makes the mistake of looking up, and Fives’ lip is curled in a familiar sneer, eyes alight with derision.

And he shouldn’t do it, because none of this is  _ real _ and he knows that, but he answers anyway. “You said you trusted me,” he says hoarsely, and Fives leans over the table, palms flat on its surface, shaking his head.

“And look how that worked out for me,” he says, like it’s a  _ joke _ . Rex swallows because he feels like he’s choking.

“I’m not giving up this time, I- I  _ can’t _ .” He isn’t even sure what he means anymore.

Fives chuckles and sits back, shaking his head, just as a tentative voice comes from behind him. “Captain? Are you… are you okay?”

~~~

Brii hadn't _ meant _ to intrude, really he hadn't, but, well, after the stress of everything and the Commander almost _ dying  _ and all that, the fact that the Captain is _ talking to thin air _ is kinda… worrying. Like, this isn't something the Captain does _ normally. _ Or is it? Who knows what the Captain does in his spare time besides tease the Commander and kiss her and _ probably _ other things Brii does _ not _ want to know about,  _ thank you very much. _

Still, he's pretty sure _ one _ of the _ vod'e _ would've noticed the Captain staring across the table at empty space and having a conversation.

“Yeah, Brii,” the Captain says, swallowing harshly and looking down. “I'm fine.”

Well,  _ that's _ a lie if Brii’s ever heard one. “Uh, no offense, Captain, but you're kind of a really bad liar.”

The Captain stiffens, and Brii winces a little, because maybe he shouldn't have said that? This is why he needs Tup to tell him when to _ shut up. _

“Umm,” Brii tries again, hesitant. “Is it because of the Commander? She's gonna be alright, you know, you were really cool and you saved her and… and usually you'd be in the medbay with her until she's released,” he mumbles slowly, trailing off. That's _ weird. _ Why is he here? “Um, did you… have a fight or something?” He blinks, frowns.

And it feels weird standing here behind the Captain, so he walks around the table and sits down, drops his sketchbook and colored pencils down on the table. The book falls open to the picture of the Captain and the Commander asleep in a chair together, her curled up in a blanket, him with a datapad loose in one hand. He's barely started coloring it in, and the Commander's sienna skin and blue chevrons on her montrals are a bright splash of color on the otherwise plain white page. He winces a little, because the Captain didn't _ want _ him to draw him, but…

~~~

When Brii sits down, Fives grins before slipping out of sight, and Rex tries not to flinch. Brii sighs, looks at his sketchbook which has fallen open more or less of its own accord, and that’s  _ almost _ funny. Except the picture taunts him, another sketch of him and Soka, and he remembers the incident in the drawing: she’d been recovering after Kamino still and had crawled into his lap with her blanket and fallen asleep while he was trying to read some reports, and-

He looks away, down at his drink again, sighs. “No, Brii, we didn’t fight. It’s  _ fine _ .”

“Well, it’s just, you’re usually  _ there _ , you know. At the medbay. When she gets injured, it’s like you don’t want to let her out of your sight or something, so I don’t get why you aren’t there.” Brii awkwardly closes his sketchbook, and Rex sees Fives back at his original seat a few tables away.

Rex sighs and rubs his forehead, trying to pull back some semblance of  _ normalcy _ , but he can’t even manage a smile, a raised eyebrow, anything that would say  _ this is fine _ . “She’s not very badly hurt,” he says, shortly. “She doesn’t need me all the time, Brii, it’s not-” Kriff, he needs to  _ stop _ . At his table, Fives snorts and shakes his head, mocking.

Brii frowns, doesn’t look offended, somehow. “You were… talking to yourself, when I came in.”

Rex swears under his breath and knocks back the rest of his drink, sets the cup back down on the table with a louder-than-he-wants clang.

“I just…” Brii rubs the back of his neck. “What’s going on, sir?”

The last thing Rex wants to do is tell all this kriffing mess to Brii, to his  _ vod _ who’s still happy and still thinks this is all, what,  _ important _ . How’s he supposed to explain  _ any _ of it to him anyway? “I don’t know, kid. It doesn’t  _ matter _ . Go draw your pictures somewhere else.”

~~~

Brii can’t help flinching a little at the harsh almost  _ coldness _ in the Captain’s voice, and for a moment he almost,  _ almost _ gets up and finds another table to sit at. Except he thinks the Captain might  _ need _ him, or need  _ someone, _ and… he thinks nothing is really  _ okay. _ He knows  _ he’s _ not really okay, even though he likes to pretend he is, because that’s what he’s supposed to be, that’s what his name is,  _ happy. _ Which means he needs to be okay. The others, they don’t really  _ think _ about it, don’t really seem to notice when he’s not happy, which--is unsurprising, really, because he doesn’t usually  _ want _ them to.

But  _ anyway, _ the point is, he’s pretty kriffing sure the Captain  _ is not fine. _

“Sorry, Captain,” he says, sheepish, because he really  _ should _ listen to the Captain, but… “But, well, it really  _ does _ matter. If--well, I don’t  _ know, _ I’m not good at this, but… you know, you can talk to me, if you want.”

He doesn’t think the Captain will, but… it doesn’t hurt to offer, right?

As he’d expected, though, the Captain just shakes his head, clenches his jaw and looks over at one of the tables a little ways away, like he’s staring at someone, except there’s no one there. Brii hesitates for a moment or two, finally flips his sketchbook open to a fresh page and pulls out his charcoal pencil, starts a messy sketch. “You know,” he starts, quietly, not looking up from his paper, “after Kamino, it was… hard. I don’t know if you ever… saw, but one of the  _ vod’e _ who died was my batchmate. His name was Stiff, and, well, we named each other, and I guess none of that’s really  _ important, _ but. I used to--still kinda do, if I’m honest--blame myself, because I was shooting to kill, y’know? And he died. So I might as well’ve done it myself. But Tup, he told me,  _ none of this should’ve happened, but it did, and we can’t change that, so we learn to live with it.” _

Brii pauses, looks up from his drawing very briefly to see the Captain  _ watching him, _ which is weird enough he looks back down quickly, tries not to turn red. He’s not used to being  _ stared at. _ “After we fought the Chancellor, I thought--so many brothers died, and I… well, I should’ve  _ saved more, _ I should’ve done something, right? I stopped the Duchess, I made her  _ see it, _ but the others--” and he stops, shakes his head, because for once he can tell that’s not  _ important _ right now. “Sorry. But I was feeling guilty for it, and Tup got shocked and you shot me and I  _ knew _ it was so I didn’t die but what if I could’ve  _ done something, _ or what if I could’ve saved  _ you, _ we thought you were  _ dead, _ sir,” and that’s not the point either but he  _ has _ to say it, “and that was--it was scary. Sir. But Tup, after, when we were in the medbay, he said, he knew how I felt, and it was  _ okay _ to feel that way, but I couldn’t stay there. And when I asked him how  _ not to, _ because I didn’t, don’t really still, understand, he said,” and Brii pauses, concentrates, trying to remember the exact words. “He said,  _ vod’e always die, Brii. It got too hard blaming myself for the slightest mistake, so I had to stop.” _ And he swallows, fingers tightening around the pencil for a moment before he plunges on. “Anyway, Captain, I guess… what I’m trying to say is… you’ve been acting funny ever since the Senate and the Chancellor and all that. I know you all think I’m kinda, well, silly and stuff, but I pay attention--because of the drawing, I see things. And you aren’t good, and I think you aren’t letting yourself be good, because you blame yourself for--for Fives and Dogma, sir. And, well, I know it feels like it, but it’s not your fault, sir. You couldn’t have stopped it. And you  _ shouldn’t have _ been able to!” he hurries to add, looking up for a minute. “Sir, Captain, the Chancellor is--was--a  _ Sith Lord. _ It’s not  _ our fault _ we can’t beat him, even General Skywalker couldn’t. So, well. I know how you feel,” and he blushes a little, looks back down to his sketch, “and it’s  _ okay _ to feel like that, Captain Rex,  _ vod. _ Really, it is. But--but you can’t  _ stay there, _ you can’t, because then you start getting…” he frowns, bites his lip, trying to come up with the word. Gestures vaguely. “Tired, I guess. Like there’s no  _ point. _ And there  _  is _ a point,  _ vod. _ I mean, did you see that kid? Miik? We  _ saved him. _ And I think, I think that’s why we’re fighting this war, even though it’s really  _ hard _ because we lose so much. Because we can  _ take it, _ and we do, so that  _ ade _ like Miik can be okay.”

He lets out a long breath, swallows hard, the words suddenly running dry, and he tightens his fingers on his pencil and sketches a bit faster.

~~~

Fives crosses his arms and makes a “go-on” gesture, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell him,  _ Captain? _ About how you’d rather just let everyone else suffer so you don’t have to?”

_ Shut up. _ Rex rubs his thumb over his cup and avoids looking at Fives anymore. Kriff him. “Yeah,” he says, considers just keeping his mouth shut until Brii leaves him alone, but… but if that happens Fives is going to come talk to him again, and he doesn’t want more of that. “But I don’t know, Brii. What if…” and he shouldn’t say this to Brii, because none of his men, least of all Brii, need to  _ know this _ , but… Brii isn’t  _ stupid _ , and he’s giving Rex earnest looks up from his sketching every couple seconds, like he seriously  _ wants _ Rex to keep talking. “What if I can’t take it, Brii? Hells, no, let me say that again: I kriffing  _ can’t _ .”

Brii’s hand slows a little in his drawing and he looks up, frowning a little. Rex doesn’t let him say anything, doesn’t look over at Fives. He’s just… tired. And his stomach hurts. And there’s a little girl in Ahsoka’s dreams who he  _ really wants  _ to be real.

“I’ve been fighting for five years. I got the jaig eyes in my first real battle because half my battalion  _ died _ . I don’t know, kid, someone told me I was brave and I believed them. Never mind it was all just training.”

Fives’ voice comes earnest and challenging from the other side of the room. “Do you really believe that, or is that just what they engineered you to think?”

Rex sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I fight this war because I have to, because I was  _ born _ to and I don’t have another  _ option _ , Brii. But I can’t anymore, it’s taking too much and I… Kriff it, I’m sick and tired of every  _ kriffing _ thing I care about being  _ gone _ . And it’s not  _ kriffing  _ worth it, it hurts too much to lose everyone,” and without meaning to he points over at Fives before yanking his hand back to his chest, “and I’m tired of pretending it’s okay. I don’t… I should know it’s worth it, but I’m not… not sure.”

~~~

When the Captain admits he’s not sure the war is  _ worth it _ anymore, Brii looks up from his sketch again, tilts his head to one side, considering. What would Tup say? Tup is much better at this kind of thing. “The Commander’s not gone,” he says carefully, feeling his way around, because he’s not exactly sure what to  _ say, _ and the Captain flinches a little at that and Brii remembers she’d almost died today. Right. 

…  _ oh. _

“You’re scared to lose her,” he breathes out, understanding dawning, and the Captain’s face  _ tightens, _ his eyes shuttering a little, and that’s not good. “But, sir--” and his voice cuts off and he  _ stares _ because something else makes sense.  _ “That’s _ why you’re not in the medbay? Because you’re scared you’ll lose her so you don’t--so you think if you leave it won’t hurt when you do?”

Rex  _ jolts _ at that, won’t  _ look at him, _ his hands tightening on his empty cup, and kriff, kriff, kriff. “But, sir, that’s not  _ fair--” _

“I  _ know, _ Brii,” the Captain growls, and Brii feels an almost  _ angry _ frustration rise up in his chest.

“Shut  _ up  _ and  _ listen _ to me for a second,” he says almost  _ sharply, _ pushing his sketch back a little so he doesn’t crumple the page. “It’s not kriffing fair to  _ you, _ Rex! I don’t need to tell you it’s not fair to the Commander, you already  _ know that, _ but apparently you’re just…” and he frowns, distracted for a moment by trying to find the right word. “A stubborn  _ di’kut,” _ he decides, after a moment, nodding to himself. “So you  _ might _ lose her, and yeah, it’d hurt if that happened, but just because it  _ might _ doesn’t mean it kriffing  _ will, _ and if you think  _ any _ of us intend to let that happen you’re  _ dini’la! _ Okay, you might lose her. So-kriffing- _ what?” _ The Captain looks vaguely  _ stunned, _ but Brii ignores that, stands up and  _ glares. _ “So you’re gonna be the stupid self-sacrificing, noble Jedi, deny yourself the chance to be  _ happy _ while you’ve got it? Kriffing  _ look,” _ and he fumbles with his sketchbook, flips through it. There’s a section of pictures all together, a handful of Rex and the Commander together being adorable idiots, and he flips through those carefully (knows the Captain can see them), finds the most recent sketch he’d done of the Captain.

He’d done it in secret, because he remembered  _ if you’re drawing me I’ll put you on dish detail, _ but he’d  _ really wanted _ to draw it, so…

The sketch is done in full color, is the Captain right after Brii’d finished doing the jaig eyes tattoo, shows him smiling warm and bright and  _ happy, _ and his scars are all meticulously sketched out in perfect detail, but instead of making the Captain look broken or weak or anything, Brii privately thinks they make him look stronger, look like a  _ survivor, _ look like the incredible, focused, smart,  _ tough, _ but caring leader Brii  _ knows _ he is. “You see that, Captain?” he asks, although his voice is still firm. “That’s who you  _ actually are. _ So everything’s kriffed, yeah, they were my friends too, sir. But  _ that’s you. _ So guess what? Shit may be all awful, and kriffed, but you’re  _ Captain Rex of the 501st, _ sir. So--so quit having a--a  _ kriffing pity party _ and  _ act like it, _ and for kriff’s  _ sake, _ Captain, trust your  _ vod’e _ to have you  _ and _ your  _ cyare’s _ six.”

~~~

Rex’s brain more or less grinds to a halt when  _ Brii _ , of all people, starts  _ scolding _ him, and it doesn’t really start up again when Brii goes quiet, crosses his arms, and glares at him like he’s daring him to argue. Rex decides it’s too hard to meet Brii’s eyes, so he looks down at the drawing, swallows a little because it’s kriffing… he doesn’t know, but it makes something lodge in his throat and he  _ doesn’t kriffing get it _ .

“I’m… I’m not having a pity party,” he manages, because he’s not actually sure what else he’s supposed to say.

And then there’s a sudden sound of clapping, slow and  _ almost _ sarcastic and Rex thinks it’s Fives for a minute, until Brii startles and Rex looks up to see Jesse and Tup standing near the entrance to the mess. Tup looks  _ gleeful _ and Jesse looks so kriffing smug. Rex cringes and rubs his face because he does not know how to deal with them right now.

“That was kriffing awesome, Brii.” Jesse marches over and peers over Rex’s shoulder at Brii’s drawing, and Brii suddenly picks the sketchbook back up, clearing his throat and turning red. (And kriff, so many pictures, of all the things… a lot of moments that it’s hard to remember sometimes.) Tup comes over too, lightly punches Brii in the shoulder, and Brii smiles a little sheepishly.

“If you’re going to have a pity party, Captain, you should at least invite us. And have more  _ gal _ , for kriff’s sake.” Jesse grabs his cup, taps a slight dent which Rex apparently made. “Want more?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” Rex blinks and summons enough energy to smile at Brii, a  _ real _ smile for the kid. “I don’t know anything about art, kid, you know that, but that drawing was amazing. So, thanks.”

Brii’s eyes  _ light up _ and  _ kriff _ , why does that always make Rex feel so damn  _ good _ ? “But you said… dish detail, if I drew you?”

“Kid,” Rex sighs (and Fives isn’t sitting at his table anymore, that’s good), “I said that once. I was  _ joking _ . I’m not putting you on dish detail for flattering me with a picture that nice.”

“Seriously?” Brii glances over at Tup, who rolls his eyes in a very knowing way.

“Yes, seriously,” Rex grumbles, looks down again. He is  _ tired _ .

“I kriffing told you,” Tup says, and Brii smiles before sitting back down, opening his sketchbook again and going back to work on his drawing.

Jesse comes back with a full cup of  _ gal _ for Rex and one for himself, passes it over and drops next to him. “You need to clean your armor, sir, it’s a mess.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rex sighs, rubs his forehead. He takes a long drink of his  _ gal _ , nods at Brii. “Listen, Brii… I’ll try, okay? If only so you don’t kriffing yell at me like that again,  _ little gods _ .”

~~~

“Oh,  _ kriff,” _ Brii says, heartfelt, “I’m  _ so glad _ you aren’t mad at me, sir, that was  _ so rude, _ I don’t think I’ve  _ ever _ yelled at anybody before--”

“Well,  _ ori’vod,” _ Tup says casually, dropping down to sit next to Brii and slinging an arm around his shoulders, “he  _ did _ deserve it.”

The Captain  _ chokes _ on his drink.

Still, Brii can’t help a grin, even though he’s just  _ yelled at the Captain. _ “You  _ were _ being kinda stupid, sir,” he says tentatively, though he’s pretty sure his face is flaming red. “And  _ somebody _ had to tell you to stop?”

“Brii,” Tup says, very seriously, “I will give you half the cut of  _ every betting pool _ I win for the rest of my life if you keep calling him on his shit.”

Brii blinks, mouth dropping open a little. “Really?” Well, if  _ that’s _ the case, then… “But what if I beat you?”

His  _ ori’vod _ flounders a little, opens and closes his mouth a few times, and Jesse starts laughing again. “I--well--obviously  _ nothing happens, _ since I didn’t win,” Tup manages after a moment, and Brii can’t stop himself from  _ laughing. _

“You’re a kriffing  _ di’kut, _ Tup,” he says gleefully.  _ “And _ you look like a fish, too--”

“Oh, no. Don’t you  _ dare _ draw me with the General.” Tup  _ glares, _ very pointedly.

Brii, just as pointedly, ignores him.

“I formally rescind my offer of  _ half of the bets,” _ Tup announces, and Brii makes a face.

“You can’t  _ do that!” _

“I do what I want.”

“Kriff you,” Brii mutters, scowls a little, though he’s barely suppressing another laugh. And then he shrugs, points his pencil threateningly at Rex, feeling a little light and giddy and probably way too confident. “If you do that pity party shit again, Rex, I’ll make  _ you _ a fish too.  _ And _ plaster your fishy face all over the ship.”

~~~

Rex has the sense not to gape at Brii and give him more reasons to… draw him as a fish, apparently. “Now that  _ would _ earn you dish detail,” he says dryly. “Maybe latrine duty too.”

Brii gives him an almost mischievous smile. “Worth it, sir.”

Rex rolls his eyes and hides a smile by taking another drink. He can feel Ahsoka in the back of his mind, and she feels lonely and scared. Which is, objectively, probably his fault. He takes a few more sips of his drink, just enjoys Brii’s effusive cheerfulness and Jesse’s more sardonic amusement, but there’s a tug in his gut that says he  _ needs _ to go back to the med bay, and the sort of promise he gave Brii.

So he finishes his  _ gal _ in one long swallow (prompting Jesse to whistle a little), and pushes himself to his feet. “Thanks for that, Jesse. I need to… I’m going to go check on Ahsoka.”

Brii smiles, clearly  _ proud _ of himself, and Rex allows himself to smile back a little before turning to go.

~~~

After ensuring he was still fine, Kix had summarily kicked Anakin out of the medbay with instructions to  _ go the kriff to sleep, General. _ Anakin had, rather sulkily, obeyed--ish, he’d gone back to his room at least, and he’s  _ exhausted _ but his mind is spinning and sleeping isn’t  _ coming _ and he sighs, swears, paces.

He misses Padme.

Padme, he thinks, would know exactly what to say to Snips, she’d be able to  _ help, _ but she’s  _ not here. _ He  _ wants her. _ And it’s not the time they set aside every day to talk, but he reaches for their bond anyway, because he  _ wants her, _ needs her, and--

And then his comm goes off.

Anakin  _ swears, _ answers it. “Skywalker here.”

There’s nothing, just a burst of static that resolves itself into someone whimpering out  _ “I’m sorry, Master,” _ and then there’s electricity, crackling like a storm cloud, and the same voice starts repeating a series of numbers over and over again.  _ “CT-21-0408, ARC-lieutenant,” _ and that’s  _ not possible. _

“Echo?” Anakin murmurs, stares at his wristcomm, but there’s no  _ answer, _ just his voice choking off, and then--

And then a horribly familiar voice says, almost  _ amused, _ “Why would you want to know you’re on Mustafar, Priority Asset #1?”

And Anakin  _ swears. _

_ Dooku has an asset that can be persuaded to reveal a great deal of information on your battle tactics. _

_ What kind of asset? _

_ What makes you think I’d tell you, Skywalker? _

No. Oh,  _ no. _

“I’m so  _ sorry, _ Echo,” he chokes out, because they’d just  _ assumed _ him to be dead and they’d  _ left him _ and he--oh, kriff. Kriff. Oh,  _ Force. _

Echo is babbling now, something about  _ I’m sorry, I’ll forget, please please please make it stop, _ and Anakin wants to punch something. Preferably something Dooku-shaped with silver hair and a Sithy grin. He’s figured out by this point, of course, that the feed is one-way, and that’s  _ odd; _ a part of him wonders exactly how this happened. Echo doesn’t seem to be in any sort of shape to be able to do it--and then he thinks, unless that’s on  _ purpose, _ and remembers  _ I’m sorry, I’ll forget. _

Dooku snarls to  _ be silent, _ and Echo’s babbling and choked whimpers stop  _ instantly, _ and Anakin thinks of  _ I’m sorry, Master, _ and he  _ burns. _

No more.

Anakin grabs a holoprojector, storms back towards the medbay and comms the Council at the same time; though Windu is  _ irate, _ Anakin refuses to speak until he’s standing by Obi-Wan’s bunk.

“I found Dooku,” he snaps, sharp and short (hears the door open behind him, senses it’s Rex, doesn’t look back). “He’s on Mustafar.”

_ “How did you come by this information?” _ Windu asks, and Anakin grits his teeth and hits his wristcomm, plays back the recording.

The medbay is  _ dead silent. _

“Because, Master Windu,” Anakin says, and his voice is low and dangerous, “Echo didn’t die at the Citadel.” He pauses, sees Windu about to say something, and interrupts, swiftly. “And I’m going  _ after him. _ Try to stop me at your own risk.”

And he cuts the comm off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _buir:_ parent, mommy/daddy depending on context
> 
>  _gal:_ ale
> 
>  _dini'la:_ insane


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch the tags, friends! the next couple chapters are a bit wild, take note.

Rex wants to go back to the mess and pretend he didn’t just hear that  _ voice _ over Anakin’s comm, one of his  _ vod’e _ so completely  _ lost _ . It takes serious effort not to, takes gritting his teeth and reminding himself he told Brii he’d  _ try _ and sensing Ahsoka needs him. General Kenobi grabs Anakin by the arm, sits up, and Rex thinks  _ that’s _ probably going to be a mess. Right now, though, he focuses on one thing at a time: here, that means Ahsoka. He goes over to her bunk, finds he’s walking silently without quite meaning to. Which is easier since he’s not in all his armor anymore, just his boots.  _ Hey _ , he says, to warn her, before sitting down on the edge of the bunk and setting down a blanket he’d been carrying. In case she wants it. Not a very good apology.

Ahsoka, who’s all curled up on the bunk, arms wrapped around her, suddenly twists and turns toward him and grabs his leg, pressing desperately close to him.  _ I’m sorry, Rex, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean _ \- and there’s a flash of memory, her dream and her being  _ angry _ and Rex fumbles for the right thing to do because he hadn’t expected  _ this _ \- although he probably should have, come to think of it.  _ I’m sorry _ , she thinks again, and Rex just stops himself from tracing a hand over her montrals because they’re  _ very _ bruised, just settles his hand on her shoulder blade instead, carefully.

_ It’s fine, _ he says, although he’s not even totally sure what she’s apologizing for.  _ I shouldn’t have just  _ left _ like that but I…  _ He thinks now is not the time to try to explain properly. At all.  _ I’m sorry, it was a lot _ . _ You almost died and I- _ No, too much, he can’t talk about this yet.  _ You’re fine, Soka _ .

~~~

_ I'm sorry,  _ Ahsoka repeats, pressing her face harder into his leg. She'd not been _ listening _ to him and she'd just been so _ focused _ on her dream and she _ forced _ him and-- _ I'm sorry, I should've noticed you didn't want to see it, Rex, I didn't mean to be angry. _

She's _ shaking, _ curled up against him, can't seem to stop.

_ It's alright, Soka, _ he soothes, and he pulls his hand back and for a moment she _ freezes _ because no, oh _ no, _ he's going to _ leave _ and it'll be  _ her fault _ and she doesn't _ want _ him to--but he's just working his boots off and grabbing the blanket, spreading it out over the bunk and scooting over to lay down next to her. He lays on his back, extends one arm so she can curl closer, and it almost seems like a miracle.

Ahsoka presses closer _ anyway, _ rests her head gingerly on his chest, closes her eyes, tries to _ breathe. _ Even though it's hard.  _ I'm sorry I made you see it, _ she thinks again,  _ I didn't know you didn't--like it. _

~~~

Rex frowns, has to press further into her thoughts to figure out she means her dream. And he can't explain everything he feels about that, the mess of fear and doubt and despairing certainty that makes it  _ hurt  _ to see that dream because he d _ oes  _ “like it.”

He eases a layer of calm over her thoughts and digs for a  _ good _ answer, the right one.  _ It wasn't that, _ he finally says, uncomfortably.  _ You almost died, Soka, I… was worried. It felt like a dangerous idea _ . That's the best he can do, except:  _ Stop apologizing. I'm the one who's sorry.  _

Ahsoka shifts almost impossibly closer to him, pressing her face into his chest, and he feels she's confused and doesn't really believe him. So he sighs, kisses the tip of one of her montrals, and sends the  _ wanting _ and sincerity.  _ Ner’jetii _ , he thinks, tiredly.  _ You're okay, Soka. _

There's still a twist of anxiety in his stomach, of not-quite-panic, and he has to push the news about  _ Echo _ into a back corner because he can't deal with both things right now. And if he does, he thinks Fives might come back, which… He shouldn't be seeing Fives at  _ all _ . He sighs and rests his hand on Ahsoka's shoulder blade again, and rubs small, soothing circles. Focusing on Ahsoka right now.

~~~

Ahsoka hums, breathes out quietly, closing her eyes and relaxing into Rex’s side.  _ Thank you for coming back, _ she sends sleepily, warm and soft and  _ grateful. _ She’d missed him, been scared he  _ wouldn’t _ come back. Been scared that she’d pushed him away.

_ I always come back, _ he says, still rubbing soft circles into her shoulder, and she swallows back an irrational surge of tears.  _ I’m here, Soka, it’s okay. _

But it’s  _ not okay. _ It’s not okay, and it won’t be okay, not until this is all  _ over, _ because she’s so tired of fighting, of almost losing. But Rex is  _ here, _ and she hadn’t thought he’d come back, and she doesn’t have to sleep alone, and so she presses love soft and warm into his mind and lets herself drift back into her dreams of the future.

~~~

Rex is relieved when Ahsoka actually falls asleep again, her breaths slowing, growing deeper and steadier, and he senses flickers of warmth and happiness from her - that dream again. Rex sighs and fits both arms tighter around her so she can't go anywhere, eases into the edges of her thoughts, where he can feel the warmth and comfort of her dream without having to see it.

He's so tired, and Ahsoka feels (has always felt) like safety and Brii’s drawing of him is still on his mind and it shouldn't be such a big deal, shouldn't  _ matter _ so much, but Brii’s  _ dead _ serious, fiery eyes as he told him “that's you - act like it” are as stuck in his thoughts as his drawing, so.

So Rex decides that right now,  _ acting like it _ means going to sleep with his arms around his Jedi. He shifts slightly onto his side, just enough that he can curl around her without her having to move, and lets out a long, slow, shaky breath. There's the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes but he ignores it, lets his breathing settle into a rhythm to match Ahsoka's, and drifts. Takes this one opportunity for calm while he has it.

…

Obi-Wan hangs onto Anakin’s wrist even after he obeys his former padawan’s silent glare and lays back down. “Anakin, slow down.”

“That’s not an option, Master,” Anakin snarls, yanking on his arm, and Obi scowls and shakes his head, fights the urge to push himself up on his elbows.

“ _ Anakin _ . We’ll go after him, you know that, but you need to take time to  _ balance yourself _ .” Obi-Wan can push himself to fight after nearly anything, but right now everything  _ hurts _ and not a single person on this cruiser has had enough sleep, least of all Anakin. They still have to find ways to feed and berth all the Zygerrian slaves, still have to keep the  _ mando’ade _ away from them, and Ahsoka needs more time to recover from her ordeal.

“Master, we left him there for  _ years _ , he needs-”

“You are in no shape to go on a rescue mission!” Obi snaps, sharp, some  _ influence _ behind his words. “Much less one that means taking on Dooku, Anakin-  _ slow down _ .”

~~~

Anakin wants nothing more than to twist his arm away, ignore his Master, storm to the bridge and set a course for Mustafar. He doesn’t  _ care _ that he’s exhausted, running on adrenaline and too much caf and spite; it’s been--what, two years since the almost-disaster that was their rescue mission to the Citadel? Since they’d all  _ watched _ as Echo  _ sprinted _ towards the shuttle in a desperate attempt to recover it, only for it to explode. They’d thought him  _ dead, _ had left him behind, because they didn’t have a  _ choice, _ there wasn’t any time to search for his body, but that’s no excuse. He’d left behind  _ his man, _ and because of that Dooku’s had access to invaluable Republic information and tactics and Echo has been subjected to awful pain.

This is  _ his fault, _ and he needs to make it right.

But Obi-Wan has a  _ point; _ they’ve just fought two intense battles in a row, with little rest between them, and Ahsoka had almost  _ died, _ and Rex isn’t in any kind of shape to be fighting, and Kix still needs to kriffing  _ sleep it off, _ and also there’s an entire kriffing  _ colony _ of Zygerrian ex-slaves that he still doesn’t know what to do with. And there’s no evidence of any kind to suggest that Dooku’s even  _ aware _ of Echo’s comm, which means they’ve got some time. Still.

“The longer we wait, the more that  _ sleemo _ tortures Echo,” he says through gritted teeth, clenching his mech hand into a fist. It’s  _ not okay. _

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, soothingly, and Anakin can feel the light waves of the Force, of  _ calm, _ but he’s too upset to really push it away. “But we won’t solve anything by rushing in without a plan, woefully unprepared. Think of your  _ men, _ Anakin--how many of them are in the condition to be rushing off to  _ Mustafar _ to fight  _ Count Dooku?” _

Anakin winces a little, grimaces, because he’s  _ right. _ “None of them,” he sighs, through gritted teeth, and then he breathes out heavily and groans. “It’s just--he’s being  _ tortured, _ Master, and he called Dooku  _ Master, _ and…”

Obi-Wan sends a gentle wave of reassurance, of understanding, soothes over the jagged holes Echo’s screams have torn in Anakin’s soul. “I  _ know, vod,” _ he says, very very quietly, and the sound of his  _ Master _ calling him  _ brother _ tugs at something in his heart. “We  _ will _ get him back. I swear it. But we must go about this  _ carefully, _ and none of us will be able to think clearly until we’ve slept.”

Anakin bows his head, nods slowly. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “It’s just--” He doesn’t need to say it. His Master  _ understands. _

“Go get some sleep, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, releases his arm.

And  _ sleep _ really  _ does _ sound like a good idea, because the caf is starting to wear off and he’s starting to sway a little on his feet, so he nods, says, “Oh-seven-hundred hours,” and leaves for his quarters.

_ We’re coming for you, Dooku, you slimy rat-faced bastard, _ he thinks venomously, and lets his anger give him the strength to stay upright.

~~~

Rex wakes up from Ahsoka’s dream (and for a moment the softness of it is something he wants to hang onto, the closeness) to a hand on his shoulder, Cody’s. He shifts, carefully, twists so he can look up and meet his  _ ori’vod’s _ eyes. “What?”

“Time to get up,” Cody says, quietly, almost apologetically. “I brought your armor,  _ ori’vod _ \- we’re headed for Mustafar system, should make planetfall in thirty, and General Skywalker wants you. Both of you.”

Rex swallows, pulls carefully out of Ahsoka’s thoughts and lifts her bodily off of him, sets her down next to him in the bunk and sits up. She automatically curls towards him, her mind stirring a little, and he soothes her back toward sleep with a soft thought. She needs every extra minute of sleep she can have. Cody sets his armor down on a corner of the bed, gives him a tight smile. “You doing okay?”

Rex smiles back, just as tense, and shrugs as he starts putting on his armor. “Yeah. Fine.” Cody’s brought him a new pauldron, too, the winged kind Rex prefers. It’s white and shiny, unfortunately, and Rex wrinkles his nose.

“She’s gonna be fine, you know,  _ vod _ ,” Cody says seriously, and Rex swallows back  _ what if she’s not _ , nods.

“I know,” he answers.

Cody just smiles again, like he knows what Rex is thinking, tightens the straps on his own bracer.

“What about you?” Rex says, glances around for Kenobi and sees the General talking to a few Zygerrians, very seriously. “Doing okay?”

His friend shakes his head, not an answer, just a tired gesture. “Sure,  _ ori’vod _ . Kriffing amazing.”

Rex sighs and bends over to strap on his greaves. “If we ever get back to Coruscant, I’m taking you to ‘79’s for a few stiff drinks.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Rex hesitates a moment before leaning over, shaking Ahsoka a little and threading wakefulness through her thoughts, reluctantly breaking into her dream and saying  _ hey, Soka, time to move _ . It takes a little effort, but he gets her awake, and she blinks up at him in his armor for a second, so small and vulnerable and his  _ Soka _ , not meant to be fighting this kind of war, not a soldier. Then she focuses, her eyes dart to Cody, and she struggles to sit up, wincing. He can feel a lot of her pain has eased, but she’s still bruised and her head and neck hurt.

~~~

Ahsoka feels much more awake and _ coherent, _ today; the sleep has helped, though she still _ hurts. _

Given the weight of the droid and the amount of _ force _ behind it when it'd stood on top of her, she's not surprised--she'll probably have bruises for a while after this. Her throat is still raw, but less painfully so than yesterday, and she swallows a bit, says, “Where are we going?”

“The bridge, sir,” Cody says carefully. “We make planetfall on Mustafar in thirty.”

She frowns. Why the kriff are they landing on a _ lava planet? _ “Why?” she asks hoarsely, her throat tight. Rex offers her a hand up, and she takes it gratefully, swaying a little.

Cody frowns at her, just a slight downturn of his lips. “Didn't you hear, sir? ARC-lieutenant Echo made contact. He's Dooku’s prisoner, being held on Mustafar. General Skywalker is planning a rescue mission.”

Ahsoka swallows, nods. A part of her is still numb, still wants to hide and retreat into soft golden dreams of a warm, bright future she's not sure she can _ have. _ She doesn't _ want _ to fight anymore.

But Anakin needs her, so with an exhausted sigh she twists her face into a smile and nods.

~~~

Rex can tell Cody’s concerned because his friend’s face  _ tightens _ and he briefly glances at Rex, but then he seems to decide to let it go because he just turns to go and Rex follows, putting a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder to ground her a little, keeps his thoughts brushing close to hers, projecting comfort.

_ Sorry we had to wake you _ , he says gently.

_ Thanks, _ she says tiredly.  _ I'm alright _ .

_ Of course _ , Rex says, with more sarcasm than he means to. There's almost a surge of amusement from Ahsoka, although she still feels so tired and confused. Rex thinks he should probably try to figure out what had upset her so much last night - but here, now, headed towards yet another battle, he supposes there isn't time to discuss it.

_ I love you _ , he says, determinedly.

_ I love you too _ . Ahsoka edges closer to him, and Rex wants to put his arm around her, but Cody is  _ right there _ and it's still taking Rex some effort to stay focused, to push all the distracting thoughts  _ back _ and think about the mission and about what Brii told him. He settles for keeping his hand on her shoulder, easy, supportive.

He's not surprised to find Anakin pacing in tight, fast steps when they get to the bridge; Kenobi is standing with his arms behind his back, tense, watching Anakin pacing.

“Good, you're here,” Anakin says, striding towards them, clear concern on his face. “Are you okay, Snips?”

Subtlety will never be Anakin’s strong suit, Rex thinks, wryly.

~~~

Ahsoka manages to pull herself out of the tiredness for long enough to force a smile and nod. “Yeah,” she says quietly, can’t quite meet Anakin’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He frowns, doesn’t really  _ believe _ her, she thinks, which is smart, but. But she’ll be fine for this, at least, and he’ll  _ need _ her. “Right,” he says, slowly, nods a little. “Well, here’s what we’ve got,” and he presses a button on the holotable. A projection of the planet pops up, a bright red dot flashing at one spot. Anakin zooms in, brings up an image of the facility. “We don’t have any idea what we’re walking into,” he says, his face grave. “There could be  _ anything _ waiting for us. We do know there’s likely to be a lot of clankers--Dooku appears to have been using Mustafar as a base for a while now. Echo’s in there somewhere, and so is Dooku himself. Rex, Cody, you’ll be taking the battalions, standard search patterns, find our  _ vod _ and any other POWs and get them the hells  _ out of there. _ Rex, go brief the men, send Kix, Bo-Katan, Jak, and Elle here.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex says, but he looks over at Ahsoka before he leaves, thinks,  _ Be careful, ‘Soka _ at her.

She doesn’t try to smile, just squeezes his hand.  _ You too, Rexter. I’ll see you later, yeah? _

Rex doesn’t answer, just curls his hand around the back of her neck, leaning down to kiss her, soft and tender, and then he pulls back and briefly presses his forehead to hers.  _ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, _ he hums silently, and she smiles a little.

_ Love you too. _

And then he’s gone, and she swallows, tries not to feel like this is all  _ inevitable, _ like he’s saying  _ goodbye. _ He’s not.

(She repeats it, over and over again, but she can’t quite make herself believe it.)

~~~

Today is a day for one thing at a time, Rex thinks, and as he walks back to the barracks where the battalions will be kitted up, he lets his mind travel to Echo, to the voice over Anakin’s comm begging and pleading, repeating rank and number in the first anti-interrogation tactic they were ever taught.

Rex remembers the first day he met Echo, remembers painting his shiny armor with the blood of a Rishi eel, accepting him into the 501st with a quiet sort of pride, knowing he and Fives would be good additions to his battalion. They’d all grieved Echo, Fives most of all, but this means they didn’t lose him. They left him  _ behind _ . And Dooku has him and Rex knows he’s never going to forget the sound of Echo  _ begging _ like that.

Part of him is too tired to know how to respond.

Part of him burns hot as a sun, anger pounding like a second heartbeat.

His battalion is waiting in the barracks, all of them by their bunks in their armor, ready to go again. Less of them are here than he wants - still enough, but they have enough wounded that he’s concerned. The Death Watch is standing too, more or less ready to go, still more sloppy than his men. They’ll get there, if this goes on much longer.

“We make planetfall on Mustafar in twenty. Bo-Katan, Elle, and Jak - Anakin wants you on the bridge for debriefing. Elle, I want you to run by the medbay first and get Kix,” he snaps, and the three of them stride off. Rex plants his feet, tucks his helmet under his arm. “Alright, listen up, boys. This is gonna be a standard search and rescue; priority is finding ARC-lieutenant Echo and getting him out. We’re looking at a Separatist outpost but we don’t have any schematics - this may be a trap, so we’re taking this in squads and working our way up. This isn’t a mission to get creative with,” he says, glancing at the Mandalorians. Of course he’s sure they’ll need to improvise, but not until they know what they’re dealing with. “We stay focused, we get Echo out, and let the Generals worry about Dooku. I want to be  _ fast _ ; we’re counting on surprise here, but that only lasts so long.”

Crys, predictably, speaks up - albeit with a more helpful question than usual. “And what if it  _ is _ a trap?”

“Then I trust you’ll all do your best to think on your feet,” Rex says, dryly. “A slow soldier is a dead soldier,  _ vod _ .”

Crys sneers a little but doesn’t say anything else, and Rex sighs and puts his helmet on, heads over to talk to his squad ( _ Domino _ squad, they’ve been calling themselves, for Fives - it seems still more appropriate now). Brii’s helmet has a new design on it, even though he’d only just repainted it again last week.

“Hey, Captain,” Jesse says. “Ready to kick some clanker ass?”

“More or less,” Rex answers, clapping Brii on the shoulder. “I need you  _ focused _ today, kid, okay?”

Rex can tell Brii is sheepish even without seeing his expression because he’s a little slumped, shifting from foot to foot. “I will if you will, sir.”

“It’s a deal.” Rex swallows and rolls his shoulders, closes his eyes behind his helmet. Echo needs him, and Rex is  _ not _ going to fail him. Not today, not this time.

~~~

Anakin waits for the entire strike team to gather on the bridge before he starts speaking; he spends the few minutes waiting for Elle and Kix to arrive  _ pacing, _ around and around and around, hands clasped behind his back, trying not to worry about Ahsoka. She’s  _ not fine, _ but he  _ needs her _ today, and she knows it. Which means she’s going to refuse to stay behind, of course.

He’s worried about this mission, too. They’ve got  _ zero _ intel, their numbers are significantly down, and they’re all tired and in serious need of a few days to rest. Tensions are running higher than ever between his men and the Death Watch warriors, and Jak Ordo hasn’t been in a good enough place, mentally, to keep the peace like he normally would. If it wasn’t for the element of surprise, which won’t last long, this would be a suicide mission.

But it’s not, and he has to remind himself of that.

Elle and Kix come in after a few minutes, Elle fully kitted up and her helmet on, her hands lightly resting on her blasters, Kix with his helmet clipped to his belt still, his ‘saber in his hands--he’s idly twisting the casing around and around.

“Right. We’re about to make planetfall on Mustafar,” Anakin starts, stopping in his pacing, crossing his arms. “We’re going in blind, relying on speed and surprise to keep us from getting slaughtered like mynocks down there. We know Dooku is somewhere in the facility. Our objective is to find him as quickly as possible and neutralize him. The battalions are going after Echo, so we don’t have to worry about that.” Thank the Force. He looks around at the six people gathered around him--the most elite warriors on both cruisers--and meets their eyes. “Any questions?”

“Dooku is mine,” Jak says heavily, his fists tense around the hilts of his vibroblades.

Elle snorts. “That’s not a question, Ordo.”

_ “Gar serim,” _ Jak agrees, grins wolfishly. “I’m not asking.” And he takes his helmet from underneath his arm and jams it onto his head.

“Dooku’s yours,” Anakin agrees. It’s only fair, after all. And Obi-Wan might still be clinging to the delusion that they’ll be able to bring Dooku in alive, but Anakin knows better.

They can’t make the same mistake with Dooku that they’d made with Palpatine.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan starts, and Anakin sends an impression of  _ not now _ across the bond. It wouldn’t do to look divided in front of the  _ Mand’alor, _ not now that the end of the war is within their grasp--they have no idea if Bo-Katan will attack them the instant the Sith are dead or not. After all, they’re only  _ narudar. _

“If there aren’t any questions, we need to get to the hangar. Bucket on, Kix.”

“Yes, sir,” Kix says, clips his ‘saber to his belt so he can put his helmet on.

“I have  _ no idea _ how long it’ll take the Seppies to raise their battalions,” Anakin adds as they leave the bridge behind. “As soon as we’re out of hyperspace, we’ll appear on their scanners, so we’ve got to get the transports down  _ fast.” _

Ahsoka is oddly silent in the back of his mind, and he swallows, glances back at her--she looks small and pale, dark bruises flowering on her neck and her montrals, and her eyes are pained. She won’t quite meet his gaze, but she pushes reassurance at him.

That’s not very, well,  _ reassuring, _ for lack of a better word.

~~~

There’s tension running thick and high on the transports, so much so that it’s hard for Rex to control all the adrenaline making his hands shake, hard to turn the battle nerves into strength, but he does nonetheless. He always does, it’s like breathing now. Sometimes harder, but always natural. The Separatists know they’re here now, if they didn’t before, which means  _ speed _ is vital and Rex can tell his men are poised to move, everything barely-controlled energy and balanced stillness.

It’s good, it means they’ll be ready.

The second the transports are close enough to the planet’s rocky surface, Rex gives a signal, jumps out of the transport, steadies himself as his men and the 212th do the same. The air radiates  _ heat _ , and the ground has the rippled pattern of cooled lava. Rex grips his DCs and takes off in a half-run for the base, Cody falling in next to him, their Generals and the  _ Mand’alor _ and his Jedi running full-out, past them. There aren’t any droids outside, which bodes well for their attack being a surprise - although Rex isn’t counting on anything here.

His troopers separate to either side of the door and Cody waves forward two troopers from his artillery unit with a pair of rocket launchers. Their men are clear, and Anakin’s strike team pulls back too; the troopers fire their weapons and the stone dust and fire and smoke of the explosion clouds everything for a moment, but- “We’re clear!” Cody shouts, and they’re moving again, the Jedi and Kix first with sabers lit, Cody and Rex resuming the lead of their battalions and the  _ mando’ade _ . The base is dark, the explosion having shut down the lights in the entrance, low-power red emergency lights flashing near the ceiling. Rex glances at Ahsoka as she and the other Jedi take off like wolves on a scent, then locks his worry for her as tight away as he can, grits his teeth and pushes into the base, the battalions splitting off into squads to search the halls.

“Keep everyone else updated as you go,” Rex says, speaking into his wristcomm on the frequency for the clones’ helmet feeds.  _ And don’t be stupid _ , he adds, to himself. He doesn’t need careless mistakes compromising this mission. Cody splits off with one of his squads, and Rex goes with Domino squad and some forty others down what looks to be the main hallway of the base. He keeps his steps silent and fast, high alert, everything narrowed down to his senses and instincts and skills he’s honed since he was old enough to  _ stand _ .

They’re kriffing  _ getting Echo out _ of this place and making sure Dooku can never do this to another of his  _ vode _ again.

~~~

Elle’s hands are tight around her blasters, her eyes forward, steady on her  _ Mand’alor’s _ back as they follow the  _ jetiise _ though the compound. Her breathing is even, calm, and her eyes are dry beneath her helmet.

But inside, her mind is  _ whirling. _

She doesn’t  _ want to be here, _ at all, because--because. Because of. (Must not think about it.) But at the same time, this is the only place in the galaxy she has  _ wanted _ to see, for so long, now.

If only the price for being here wasn’t so  _ high. _

She  _ cannot think about it. _

Elle runs, focuses on the tightness in her muscles, the pounding of her heart, the strain of oxygen in her lungs, so she doesn’t have to  _ think. _

(She thinks anyway.)

The corridors are dim, lit with red emergency lighting, which casts eerie, blood-red shadows on the walls, and they’re  _ silent _ save for the soft sound of their footsteps. It doesn’t make  _ sense, _ they should’ve encountered someone by now--

There’s a voice over her helmet comm. Kenobi.  _ “It appears Maul and Savage have joined our party,” _ he says dryly, and she  _ does not swear. _ Doesn’t.

(Doesn’t  _ think, _ about how much harder it will be for Skywalker now.)

Elle doesn’t swear (aloud), but her  _ Mand’alor _ does.  _ “Shavit, I’m going to kill those hut’uune,” _ Bo-Katan snaps, and Elle privately echoes the sentiment.

Jak doesn’t say a word, but his hands tighten on his vibroblades and she  _ knows _ he’s itching for a fight. Dooku is here, after all. Dooku, the one who gave Jak that awful scar, the one who  _ sold him, _ who abandoned him to years of torment. Who would  _ glory _ in doing the same thing, once more.

(No, can’t  _ think.) _

Skywalker and Kenobi and Tano and Kix skid to a stop at the end of the corridor, in front of a pair of double doors; the two  _ jetiise _ look at each other, settle into a combat stance, nod. Tano positions herself with her ‘sabers angled to deflect any incoming blaster bolts, and Kix takes a deep breath (and she can  _ see _ him centering himself), closes his eyes for a moment, opens them, and  _ pushes. _

The doors fly open, and the four Force-users enter first, and Elle follows her  _ Mand’alor _ into the room, which is lit with the same low crimson lighting as the halls, and Jak is behind her, and she aims her blasters into the shadows, doesn’t trust anything. Not here, not now. Not with--no, she’s  _ not thinking about it. _ She can’t, she won’t.

And then the doors slam closed behind them (and she doesn’t flinch), and the lights--the normal, white lights--come up, and Elle  _ freezes. _

The large, round room is ringed by commando droids, straightening and powering up with the lights, and there’s a squad of Shadow Collective  _ mando’ade _ in their red-painted armor, and Maul and Savage, and--

And  _ him. _

Dooku.

Dooku, who sits in a deep, plush chair, his legs crossed, his long, thin fingers curled around a glass of brandy. His robes are impeccable as always, not a single ash-stain marring the fine fabric, and he looks well-rested and calm and  _ relaxed. _ (Of course he does.) 

And standing behind him, at his left shoulder, there is a girl. 

She’s taller than she  _ should be, _ too pale, too thin, even for her slender, wiry frame; her black hair is wound tightly into a neat knot at the base of her skull, her once-vibrant hazel eyes now empty and gold. Close-fitting black clothes and cloak just highlight the almost- _ sickly _ hue to her skin, and there’s a lightsaber hilt on her belt.

Elle can’t take her eyes off her.

“Skywalker, Kenobi, Tano,” Dooku says genially, inclines his head and sips his brandy. “Excellent to see you again. You should be proud of yourselves--you  _ almost _ surprised me, but,” and he pauses and oh, no, no, don’t say it,  _ please _ don’t say it, “your friend Elle Cadera is so very helpful.”

_ Everyone _ freezes, except Skywalker, who whips around to stare at her, and there’s hurt and betrayal and confusion and  _ anger _ in his eyes (and he says something, she thinks, but she can’t listen, she has to focus), and she shoves her blasters into her holsters and pulls her helmet off with a desperate breath and meets Dooku’s eyes and snaps out, “I brought you Skywalker, now  _ give her back.” _

“Patience, my young friend,” Dooku says, smiling a little. “I will, once I have dealt with Skywalker. I wouldn’t want you turning on me.”

“Elle,” the  _ Mand’alor _ says, sharp, “explain.  _ Jii.” _

_“Ni ceta, Mand’alor,”_ Elle breathes, closes her eyes, bows her head. She hadn’t had a _choice._ She would _never_ betray Bo-Katan like this, not under her own power, she _wouldn’t,_ not that they’d believe her, but… “I didn’t _want to._ I had no choice.” She’s brought Jak back into the custody of the very _demagolka_ who’d _sold him_ in the first place. She’s--she’s given them _all_ over to Dooku, to die or be tortured or, or. Or. Skywalker’s trained his ‘saber on her, and that makes sense, she _deserves that,_ she thinks. She is _aruetii._ _Dar’manda,_ because what _mando’ad_ would willingly betray their _Mand’alor?_ “Ca’tra?” she tries, softly. _“Vod’ika,_ it’s alright, _gar morut’yc.”_

The  _ jetiise _ won’t understand. The clone, Kix, he  _ might, _ maybe.

She thinks  _ maybe _ Jak and Bo-Katan might. 

Ca’tra, her  _ sister, _ her  _ family, _ does not respond; that’s typical, Elle thinks, remembering the few times she’s been able to see her younger sister in the past six years. (Once upon a time, Ca’tra had never  _ stopped _ speaking, but that was before Dooku came.) She  _ does _ look up, though, and Elle  _ almost _ steps towards her, but stops, because Skywalker’s lightsaber is dangerously close to her neck now, and… and she doesn’t want him to cut her in half.

“Skywalker, stand  _ down,” _ Bo-Katan snaps firmly. “What would you have done if that was Amidala or Tano or Kenobi?” Skywalker  _ flinches, _ and his ‘saber wavers, just a little. “Elle, why didn’t you  _ tell me?” _

She’d  _ wanted _ to, so badly. 

“Go on, Elle,” Dooku says, smiles warmly. “Tell your precious  _ Mand’alor _ why you have betrayed her.”

She can’t  _ look at him. _ “Count Dooku threatened to kill her,” she whispers through numb lips. “She’s Force-sensitive. She’s all that’s left of my  _ aliit, _ I had to protect her, I--” and she remembers the times he’d had to  _ remind her _ where her true loyalty should lie, remembers the sound of her sister’s screams, remembers  _ gedet’ye, ori’vod, gedet’ye, gaa’tayl, nayc, bic aarayla, _ and she cannot  _ breathe. _ “Ca’tra,  _ please.” _

Her sister jerks a little, almost imperceptibly, but Dooku just shakes his head, casually, idly, raises a hand, flicks his fingers. “Whose orders do you follow, my apprentice?”

Ca’tra flinches, stares at the ground again. “Yours, Master,” she says, and her voice is hoarse from disuse and barely audible.

~~~

“Still clear on all fronts, Cody,” Rex says, on Cody’s personal comm frequency. They haven't more than a few clankers, which  _ might _ be due to the power loss, might be because Dooku has pulled his defenses inward to deal with the unexpected attack, might be because this is a trap. Rex’s gut instinct is that this is a  _ bad _ sign, and Cody seems to agree.

“ _ I know. I don't like it, ori’vod _ .”

The squads have worked through a five levels, still headed  _ up _ \- Rex feels drawn tight, ready to snap, because they still haven’t found Echo and everything is dangerously still.

His squad is quiet, just as tense as he is.

Then suddenly the corridor is flooded with cold, white light as power is restored to the base, and in the tiny moment of squinting confusion, the  _ walls _ open up and Rex finally figures out where Dooku’s defenses have been hiding.

_ Kriff _ . Spins, shoots one-two-three, “Kriffing form up!” and his men draw in around him. They're surrounded. This a trap. His helmet crackles with conflicting sound and it's the other squads. He knows what they're saying.

Shoots a commando droid, shoves its body into two others, shoots again, one two.

“Captain, what the  _ hell!”  _ And that's Brii. Rex grits his teeth because there are B2s and commando droids kriffing  _ everywhere _ and his squad is too  _ small _ , they don't even know where the prison block is yet - and he grabs a B2, drags it between him and another row of droids, fires over its shoulder, shoves it to his left into some commandos and shoots all of them, fast. He isn't thinking, isn't missing. 

“ _ Rex! _ ” That's Cody, sharp, dangerous. “ _ We need to try to pull out. _ ”

“And go where?” Rex snarls, shoves Jesse out of the path of a series of blaster bolts. “We came here to get Echo.”

Cody doesn't answer and Rex doesn't think about that, just focuses on his fight, on the droids flooding the corridor - and one of his men throws a droid popper and some ten droids spark and crumple. Okay. Okay, that's good. Rex shoots one two three four five six and shouts at his squad, “I want grenades, whatever the kriff we have, up front. We're not retreating.”

Brii and ten or so other troopers press forward, launch a combination of droid poppers and regular grenades into the press of droids. The corridor sparks blue and burns red, and Rex signals. His squad surges forward, presses the faltering line of droids, and Rex helps cover their flank because they  _ have _ to be moving - if they just try to hold their position they'll be slaughtered.

He's not sure what he expects, his men are already faltering and they're going to  _ die _ if he can't do  _ something _ , but they came here for Echo and he is not dying in some hallway trying to hold a patch of durasteel floor and he's  _ not _ retreating so he grabs one of his two grenades, pitches it into a tight huddle of commando droids and shoves both his DCs into a droid’s chest casing, fires through it into another behind it.

“ _ Captain, our squads are closest _ ,” one of the other squadleaders says, Rex doesn't know his name. “ _ At last check-in, anyway. If you keep-” _ There's a tight, long pause. “ _ -working up and in, we'll try to join up with you, I think we can break through.” _

“Copy that,” Rex growls. Small goals. Find the other squad. He hears Cody snapping an order to the rest of their men: hold to their mission.

Rex uses another commando droid as a shield, fingers curled impossibly tight around its neck, shooting with one hand because better that than getting shot. Brii is focusing, Domino squad is all fire, and the rest of his troopers aren't hesitating.

Shoot one-two-three-four, push forward for this one thing, getting to his  _ vode _ .

~~~

The room is too _ quiet. _ It grates on Kix's nerves, leaves him feeling like he's got his back to a threat, exposed. Vulnerable.

He doesn't _ like it. _

Dooku is taking small sips from his glass of brandy and smirking like this is the best holodrama in the galaxy; he waves one elegant hand casually and says, “Maul, perhaps it would be to our best advantage for your brother to reinforce the guards on our asset; I did not anticipate both the clone Captain and Commander leading the rescue team.”

“Indeed,” Maul says, twirling his heavy saber hilt between his fingers. “Savage, go.”

Savage does.

Which will make it easier on them, Kix thinks, but harder on Rex and Cody, and he grits his teeth and tightens his hand on his saber. There are too many _ emotions _ in the room, making it hard to _ focus. _ Anakin and Jak are both _ murderous, _ Dooku is amused, Elle is sick and choked, and the girl--Ca'tra--is just…  _ blank. _ There's some slight fear there, but mostly _ nothingness, _ and he shudders.

“Ca'tra, deal with them,” Dooku says calmly, and the girl swallows and breathes and unhooks the saber from her belt. The blade hisses to life, glowing gold the same shade as her eyes (and what is _ wrong with him, _ he shouldn't be noticing details like that at this time), and Kix reacts instinctively: he pulls his bucket off, discards it, settles into a stance.

“I'll handle this, sirs,” he says clearly. “You take care of the rest of the bastards.”

“Copy that, Kix,” General Skywalker says, and Kix takes a deep breath and lunges forward.

Ca'tra  _ flows _ to meet him, like water, like the way Jak moves with his vibroblades, their sabers hissing and crackling where they meet, and Kix jerks backwards. Shavit, she's good, better than Dooku is, less focus on the forms and being polished and perfect, more on ferocity and  _ power. _ Fierce and raw and powerful and--kriff, stay _ focused, _ Kix. Kenobi is back-to-back with Bo-Katan, fighting Maul; Skywalker and Ahsoka are dismantling commando droids, and the Shadow Collective  _ mando'ade _ are--watching Bo-Katan?

Not that it matters, Kix has other things to be focusing on, like the fact that while he was distracted, Ca'tra had nearly  _ taken his head off _ and seriously, he's kriffing better than this.

But she's _ good, _ and she fights like he does, all precision and no wasted motion and golden _ fire, _ and she can't be older than eighteen but she's as skilled as the Commander and as fierce, and he’s suddenly grateful he relies more on his own instincts than the forms Kenobi has been teaching him, because she throws  _ pieces _ of the forms in, but mostly just… ad-libs, like he does, in a way, which is  _ surprisingly _ hard to fight. (No wonder Kenobi is so appreciative of his ‘saber skills.)

But she has one weakness, at least that he’s seen: she’s  _ terrified  _ (rightfully so) of Dooku. And he  _ hates _ himself for even  _ considering _ this, but he knows he can  _ use _ her fear.

She lunges at him, and he brings up his saber, parries desperately, and twists and stabs forward. She blocks him and starts to advance and kriff but this is harder than he'd anticipated.

And then Jak launches at Dooku, vibroblades out, and Dooku leaps up and snaps his lurid red lightsaber out, and Ca'tra _ flinches. _

She finches, and takes her eyes off Kix for just a moment, and he's going to despise himself for this later but a moment is all he needs and he leaps forward and twists his saber and disarms her, calls her saber to his other hand, hooks it on his belt and Force-pulls her to him, holds his saber to her throat for a moment, feels her trembling against him.

“Easy there,” Kix murmurs, drops his saber and carefully backs towards the dubious safety of Elle, away from where Jak is viciously attacking Dooku, where the darksaber whines as Bo-Katan presses hard at Maul’s defenses. “You're safe now.”

She finches away from him a little, doesn't make eye contact, extends her hand. Doesn't speak--perhaps that's common for her?--just reaches out, palm open. Her lightsaber?

“You promise not to stab me or any of my friends?”

She lifts her eyes, nods, and he's struck by how small and _ vulnerable _ she is. Kark it. He unclips her lightsaber and hands it over, smiles hesitantly at her. She doesn't smile back, but she holds his gaze for a moment, steady. And then she traces her finger across her neck, points at him, lifts an eyebrow; he frowns, confused, and then it clicks.

“No, I'm not going to kriffing kill you,” he says with a sigh. “If I was _ going to, _ I would've done it already. I'm a _ medic, _ Ca'tra, a healer--I don't just _ kill people.” _

She frowns, looks pointedly at Dooku, at the red blade, at Maul, and he snorts.

“Sith? Yeah, if they're evil, but you aren't.” Ca'tra raises _ both _ eyebrows this time, and he grins at her. “I just know. Besides,” he points out, “you could’ve Force-choked me at any time, but you didn’t.”

Ca’tra frowns again, but this time she looks more  _ confused,  _ and then she  _ flinches _ because Dooku’s moving again,  _ speaking, _ holding one hand out. “Ca’tra, you are to  _ kill them,” _ he says sharply, and then his hand  _ moves _ in a gesture Kix remembers from the battle in the Senate, with Palpatine, and he  _ moves, _ jerks his ‘saber out and on and lunges in front of Ca’tra just in time to catch Dooku’s blast of Force-lightning on his silver blade.  _ “Shit,” _ he gasps out, because it feels like trying to stop an A-wing or a small starfighter with nothing but his  _ will, _ and even then it’d probably be easier. He reaches almost  _ desperately _ for the Force, begs  _ please help me, _ and the Force responds with a rush of  _ knowledge, _ of strength, and he instinctively drops one hand from his ‘saber and  _ reaches. _

The spidering red electricity crackles and snaps and hisses, but there’s a faint silvery-blue glow around his hand and it  _ swallows _ the lightning whole, until Dooku stops with a confused look on his face. “How are you  _ doing that? _ You’re just a clone.”

Kix  _ laughs, _ because that’s what everyone thinks. “It’s kriffing  _ amazing _ what you can get when you  _ ask nicely,” _ he says, rolls his eyes, turns on his heel to face Ca’tra again. “Are you alright?”

She’s shaken, eyes wide and he thinks there’s more brown in them then there’d been a moment before. Panicking, he almost thinks, can  _ almost _ feel it in the Force, except she’s shielded so carefully he can barely make anything out. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re okay, alright?  _ Gar morut’yc.” _

Something flickers in her eyes at the Mando’a, but she still doesn’t speak, and he swears, flicks his eyes past her at a pair of commando droids launching at her back.  _ “Daab!” _ he snaps, and she drops  _ instantly; _ his ‘saber flashes over her head, cuts the two droids in half, and he uses his free hand to Force-shove the pieces aside so they don’t land on Ca’tra’s head.  _ “Utre’la.” _

She stands again, trembling a bit, and now he can definitely feel her terror, radiating out into the Force--there’s too  _ much _ going on for her, he thinks, and the fighting and Dooku and Elle and everything is more than she can handle. So he extends his free hand, says softly,  _ “K’olar, _ Ca’tra.” She does, and he says, “I’ve got you, alright? You’re safe, I swear on my life.”

_ ~~~ _

The droids want to push them further into the base. Rex thinks that’s the only positive here, that the droids are trying to get them to go the way they want to; he can hear the lower levels flooding with clankers, gets reports of troopers gaining upward, inward ground because droid opposition isn’t so intense there. And Rex thinks that makes sense; cutting off their retreat is, tactically, the best thing the droids can do. But he’ll worry about that when they’ve gotten to Echo and not before.

The sounds of more  _ vod’e  _ fighting come before Rex can see them, and he can tell it fuels his squad because there’s an intensity in their movements that’s almost born of desperation. Half of them have picked up droid parts to use as shields and bludgeons, and Brii’s more properly focused than Rex’s ever seen him.

There are just a few ranks, he thinks, between his squad and another, so he takes his last grenade and flings it into the mess of droids and his squad all duck as the explosion sends shrapnel flying, the fire heating Rex’s faceplate, and he shouts the order to  _ move! _

Pushing through the faltering line is almost  _ easy _ and they crash like waves over rock onto another squad of droids, one that isn't facing them, a sudden eruption of shouting and clashing metal and plastoid and blaster shots. It’s all pushing, limbs and elbows and armor joints pressing in on Rex, stray blaster bolts from their  _ vod’e _ shrieking over their heads, and Rex doesn’t even have to bother about aiming, just fires into the chaos until suddenly he and his squad stumble through face-to-face with their brothers.

There are a few more droids to shoot and Rex lets his troopers do it while he grabs the squadleader (whose orange-painted armor stripes remind him his name is Catter) and pulls him aside. “How many do you have left?”

“Good fifty, I think,” the squadleader says, clearly shaken.

“I have forty. We’re still pushing to get further in and find ARC-lieutenant Echo, alright? Prison block can’t be that many levels up. You gonna be able to handle this,  _ vod? _ ”

Catter nods, glances back; they have a few spare seconds, maybe, before the droids are on them from behind again and Rex needs them  _ moving _ . “Yeah, sir, we can do this.”

“Good, alright.” Rex goes on the battalions’ helmet frequency, already striding down the hall, his much larger squad of -  _ thank the gods - _ ninety or so troopers falling in tight behind him with a good rear guard. “I want all the squads that can joining up with each other. Get what munitions you can from the clankers. I want us to pull through this.”

“ _ There’s an armory in the west wing of this level, we’re trying to break through to it, _ ” Cody tells him, and Rex nods to himself.

“Copy that.”

Cody has that in line, and if they can link up with Cody’s squad they’ll have a better shot, but right now they just need to move before the next wave of clankers.

“ _ We’re up a floor above you, I think, Captain, _ ” a lighter voice, a  _ mando’ad _ , says over comms. “ _ South wing. We’re meeting heavy resistance. The prisoners can’t be more than another floor up _ .”

“Received,  _ verd _ ,” Rex says, pushing himself in a light jog, his men doing the same. “Hold that ground, wait for reinforcements if you can.”

They’re on the south wing too, maybe more east, which means just getting  _ up _ . Then he’ll have three squads of soldiers. He can work with this, this is good. Get up a couple floors with his men, get Echo.

Worry about what comes  _ after _ when he gets to it.

~~~

The room is still, silent, the calm before a storm, and Bo-Katan tenses her hands around her blasters, grits her teeth, tries to keep eyes on as many of the people in the room as possible. With Savage gone, tensions are stretched to the breaking point, and all that remains to be seen is who will make the first move.

The element of surprise was the single advantage they had here, and thanks to Elle, now even  _ that’s _ gone. Bo-Katan would  _ never _ have guessed  _ Elle _ to be the one to betray them.

But the sight of this girl, Ca’tra--simply a younger, slighter, paler, and apparently Force-sensitive version of Elle--and the revelations that follow, in slow, halting sentences mean Elle’s betrayal makes so much more sense. Bo-Katan thinks that maybe their strike team will have a decent chance of getting out alive, but the battalions don’t have a hope or a  _ prayer _ of finding Echo and getting out alive.

The  _ mando’ade _ of the Shadow Collective, Maul’s personal guards, are  _ deadly, _ and if she cannot find a way to neutralize them, this will be not a fight but a  _ massacre. _ Dooku orders Ca’tra to attack, and the medic, Kix, engages her; and then Bo-Katan sees Jak tense and she  _ knows _ he’s about to attack.

And the moment he attacks, the  _ mando’ade _ warriors will raise their blasters and death will come to them all.

Unless--

These warriors follow Maul because of the old ways, because Maul defeated Pre Vizla in combat. If  _ she _ can defeat  _ Maul, _ they will  _ have _ to follow her, their honor demands it. And yet Maul’s life belongs to Kenobi, she  _ knows that, _ and it would be against Mando codes to take that  _ skira _ from him (a life for a life, the old ways demand). But perhaps she can do both?

Jak’s vibroblades jerk out of their sheaths, the  _ mando’ade _ raise their blasters… and Bo-Katan holsters her blasters and draws the darksaber in one swift move, ignites the blade with a hissing whine, holds it over her head, and she takes a single step forward towards Maul. “I challenge you, Maul, for the right to wield the darksaber! I am Bo-Katan Kryze, recognized as lawful  _ Mand’alor _ by the Regent of Mandalore and the Jedi Council, and I say you have  _ no authority _ over any  _ Mando’ad!” _

Maul  _ smiles, _ ignites his red lightsaber blade, settles into a battle stance, and Bo-Katan mirrors him--but he shakes his head. “As though I’d waste my time on a child like you when I have a  _ real _ threat to face. Hello, Master Kenobi--I have waited a long time for this day.”

Kenobi doesn’t  _ say _ anything, none of the usual snark Bo-Katan would expect from him, and she thinks maybe he’s affected by the intensity of this whole mission, moreso than he’s let on. “So you admit defeat already, then?” Bo-Katan asks archly.

Maul rolls his eyes. “I am a Sith Lord. You have no chance of defeating me.”

Well, kriff that. “Together, Kenobi?”

Kenobi smiles a little, though his face looks pained. “Indeed,  _ Mand’alor.” _

~~~

Obi-Wan has never forgotten Maul’s eyes. They’ve haunted him since his Master died, the yellow and red and black, and Obi-Wan can say definitively that the eyes themselves haven’t changed, and their expression has only grown more dangerous. Obi settles shoulder-to-shoulder with Bo-Katan and lifts his saber, tries not to feel like a Padawan again. For all his rage- and pain-fueled strength, Maul has just a simple saber now, and Obi-Wan is not a Padawan anymore, and he’s not alone.

And yet when Maul  _ smiles _ and strikes, Obi-Wan feels small, feels weak, feels unable to  _ stop _ him - and yet on instinct he slashes down, strikes Maul’s blade away, and as Bo-Katan takes the brief opening to lunge at Maul, Obi sidesteps so Maul is almost between them.

The Sith has his saber between himself and Bo-Katan impossibly fast, recovering from his brief moment off balance, and Obi-Wan draws on every ounce of experience he's gained since he fought Maul as a Padawan and goes on the offensive and  _ stays _ there.

Bo-Katan doesn't fight with the Jedi forms, nothing approaching them, and even Maul seems unprepared for her raw ferocity.

But Maul is, nonetheless, the same flurry of power and  _ skill _ that he's always been, his one blade flashing blindingly fast, so many  _ clever _ moves. He keeps parrying their blades and shifting so that they nearly gut each other and he smiles every time.

“I have so looked forward to this, Kenobi,” Maul says, eyes gleaming pale yellow, “The day you finally die for the suffering you caused me.”

“I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed,” Obi says, catches Maul’s saber bearing down towards his shoulder and holds him, sees his eyes go wide with pain as Bo-Katan slices across his hip with her darksaber. Maul stumbles back and suddenly kicks Bo-Katan in the leg with his metal foot, and she buckles - for a moment, just a moment, all of Maul’s energy is focused on  _ Obi-Wan alone _ , and he finds himself almost equal to it, the Light rising in him to catch blows, to recognize feints, to stay on the offensive until Bo-Katan is up again and pressing in on Maul’s flank. The Force comes like an old friend, like Qui Gon himself, hums in his veins and helps him think.

Bo-Katan whips the hilt of the darksaber across Maul’s face and he doesn't even stagger, and Obi-Wan is all-too-aware of the Shadow Collective watching, waiting. Not only do he and Bo-Katan have to win this, she has to prove she's the stronger out of her and Maul. Fit to be  _ Mand’alor _ .

He drives in against Maul's defenses; old, old fear rising despite the Force’s closeness because this thing killed his Master.

And Obi-Wan, it seems, has not let that go.

~~~

Ca'tra doesn't quite understand what's going _ on. _

The clone medic takes her arm again, carefully, like she's glass, like the black volcanic rock that forms from the lava flows, sharp-edged, brittle things that shatter under pressure. She _ is _ sharp-edged, she _ is _ brittle, but she has learned the art of _ bending, _ like a slender willow-reed, bending back upon herself, tying in knots until she cannot recognise the shape of that which she has become. Because it is better, infinitely better, to bend into something unrecognizable than to _ shatter. _

Her Master has taught her that.

She still flinches too much whenever his lightsaber hisses, whenever his hand _ shifts _ in that way she has come to know intimately, the way that means _ pain, _ and the medic notices every instance; he frowns, gently tugs her towards the door. She tries not to stiffen too much.

“Come on,” he says quietly, “let's get you out of here.”

She's not entirely sure she _ trusts _ him, but--but he'd taken the punishment for her, and he's saved her life already, and… and she thinks he's _ safe. _ He defeated her in a duel and then _ saved her. _ She thinks, maybe, that means going with him is _ okay. _

And if going with him means not being with the Master… well, she'll take this medic over the Master any day.

So she nods, doesn't look at him.  _ Yes, please. _ “Elle, you too,” he says, and her _ ori'vod _ looks up, unsure.

“But I--”

He shakes his head. “What else could you have done?”

And Elle goes quiet, nods, puts her helmet on again, steps towards them. “Lead the way, Kix.”

Kix must be his name, Ca'tra thinks, but she looks up at him anyway, to confirm. Raises an eyebrow.  _ Your name is _ Kix?

He chuckles. “Yeah, that's my name. You should try using it sometime.”

He means _ speaking. _

No. No, she _ can't, _ she _ won't, _ that's dangerous--

“Hey, easy there,” Kix says, and she flinches away from him, instinctive.  _ Don't touch me! _ “Hey, Ca'tra, it's alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to.” 

She doesn't want to.  _ I'm sorry, Kix. _ He seems to look like he'd _ wanted _ her to try, at least. But she can't. Talking is _ dangerous. _

“Can you breathe?”

Oh, she thinks, she must've been holding her breath again. She does that too often. It doesn't _ help _ pain, she knows that, but it's an instinct she can never properly suppress. She nods, doesn't look at him. (Can't.)  _ Yes. _ Breathes slow and careful, in and out.  _ Thank you. _

“Let's move,” Elle says.

Kix nods. “Is that okay, Ca'tra?”

_ Yes, let's go, I don't want to be here anymore. _ She nods.  _ Please. _

“Right, come on. Sabers out, deflect what you can,” and Elle is once again the confident _ mando'ad _ warrior Ca'tra remembers. “You too,  _ vod’ika.” _

Ca'tra nods, pulls out her lightsaber, ignites the golden blade. She can do this, fight. She is good at fighting. Always has been, since she was just an _ ad, _ since  _ buir _ died and Elle took her to the _ Kyr'tsad _ for shelter. Since before the Master came and took her away. She takes a deep breath, swallows, straightens her spine.

She can do this.

She _ will, _ for her _ ori'vod, _ for Kix.

~~~

Miik thinks the med bay is  _ cool _ , when everyone isn’t in so much pain. Anakin is off fighting somewhere again - so is everyone, actually, so Miik and his papa and mama are just waiting in the med bay. His mama hasn’t said anything still, but she is awake, and she gets food and  _ three whole blankets _ . Miik keeps getting as much food and water as he wants, too, which is still  _ so amazing _ , so hard to believe - but Sniper always gives him more food, makes sure he isn’t just eating the sweet, amazing thing Sniper says is called uj cake.

Sniper is always in a good mood, Miik thinks; he talks slow and smiles slow but he can stitch up cuts faster than Miik’s own mama can sew. Today, he’s in a slightly less good mood. One of the soldiers, his name is Akaan, has reopened a very long cut on his arm. Miik doesn’t like injuries, but he does like watching Sniper  _ fix _ them, so he sits on a stool by Akaan’s bunk and swings his legs, watching. Akaan is trying really hard not to swear, which Miik thinks is kind of funny - he knows about swearing, he isn’t a  _ little kid _ .

“You can swear if you want,” he says, after the third time Akaan clumsily cuts off the word  _ kriff _ in the middle. “I know about swearing.”

Akaan glances over towards his papa, who gives a tired sigh and then a shake of the head.

“I’m okay, _vaar’ika_. I don’t need- ah, _kri-_ _haarchak_ , Sniper!”

“What does ‘vaar’ika’ mean?” Miik says, leaning forward, ears pricking up with interest. In the back of his thoughts, he feels Anakin get  _ mad _ \- like a fly buzzing behind his ear. Anakin gets mad a lot, though, so Miik doesn’t worry about it.

Akaan snorts. He only has hair on the very top of his head, slicked back, and red tattoos on the sides of his head and face. “It means, um, ‘smart kid.’”

Miik nods sagely. He is very smart. Smart enough to know that Akaan is probably lying to him. “Is  _ vaar’ika _ a swear word too?”

“Kriff- ah,  _ haarchak _ \- no it isn’t, kid. It just means a kri- a small person. Like you.”

Now Akaan is being honest with him. Miik nods again, and when Akaan flinches again Miik decides this human needs some help. So he jumps off his stool and runs back to his mama’s bunk, reaches under it for his stash of food, grabs a piece of uj cake and scrambles back over to Akaan. “Here,  _ vod _ ,” he says. He doesn’t really know why the humans call each other  _ vod _ but they seem to like it when he does it, so he’s gotten in the habit.

Akaan’s stiff face breaks into a wide smile and he reaches out with his uninjured arm, takes the food from Miik (and Miik really shouldn’t share, he only has  _ so much _ if something happens, but Akaan probably needs it, so...). “Thanks,  _ vaar’ika _ .”

“You’re welcome,” Miik says, because he is  _ polite _ .

“Here.” Akaan sets the cake down and reaches for something in his belt, holds out a tiny wooden carving, of some creature Miik has never seen before. “That’s a Loth-wolf. No one knows if they’re real, but I’ve seen one, so I know. And they look like that.”

“Oh shut  _ up _ , Akaan, you have  _ not _ ,” Sniper says. “Don’t tell the kid stuff like that.”

Miik squints at Akaan, and Akaan winks, presses the carved Loth-wolf into his hand. “Trust me,  _ vaar’ika _ . They’re real.”

Miik isn’t sure, but he grips the present tight (and the rule is, they can’t take gifts, but he gave one first, so it has to be okay) and slides off his stool, hurries back to his mama’s bunk.

He has to ask his papa about Loth-wolves. If they’re real or not.

Maybe he’ll ask Anakin, when he gets back. Anakin will know about Loth-wolves.

For now, Miik wants some cake, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _narudar:_ basically, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend"; temporary allies, united to defeat a common threat
> 
>  _hut'uune:_ cowards
> 
>  _jii:_ now
> 
>  _demagolka:_ someone who commits atrocities, a war criminal
> 
>  _Ca'tra:_ night sky
> 
>  _vod'ika:_ little brother/sister
> 
>  _gar morut'yc:_ you're safe
> 
>  _aliit(e):_ family/clan
> 
>  _gaa'tayl:_ help
> 
>  _bic aarayla:_ it's painful (basically)
> 
>  _daab:_ down
> 
>  _utre'la:_ clear/all clear
> 
>  _Akaan:_ war


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so first of all, there's one more chapter dealing with the immediate aftermath of these events, then this monstrosity of a fic is DONE. there will be one more fic, recovery for all the characters and actual healing and there will be fluff and stuff too! as well as an epilogue to the series. (and if you enjoy our rexsoka writing, stay tuned for a canon-divergent Siege of Mandalore and beyond fic we're going to be writing after this series!)
> 
> the second thing is, you see those tags? suicidal thoughts and all that? yeah, so just be careful. it's not too bad, but yeah

It's not as hard to get to the cell block as Rex had feared it would be, especially with three squads of crack soldiers behind him. They join up with the third on the floor above them, and with their numbers swelled to well over a hundred troopers, almost easily win through to the next level, which is, as it turns out, and as they'd hoped, the cell block. There are guards, of course - and it's clear, from where most of them are gathered, where Echo is.

Rex gets on comms, draws his squads to a ready halt until he can evaluate what else is happening. “All squads, report.”

“ _ We're nearly up to you, _ ” Cody says. “ _ Stormed the armory and got grenades, some blasters, everything we can.” _

“Good.”

“ _ Sir, we're under attack, _ ” another voice says frantically. “ _ 212th, we took the northwest wing, we're two levels below you - it's that Sith, sir.” _ Rex hears sounds of screaming, a vague hum of a saber, and his stomach clenches, heart begins to pound. “ _ Savage Oppress. We're going to hold him off but sir, I don't think- We won't make it, sir _ .”

No. Little gods,  _ kriff _ . “Okay, everyone,  _ move! _ Tuck, Mit, I need you to figure out how to open the cell doors so we can get all the prisoners out - and I mean all.”

Both the Death Watch squads report being close, and another 501st squad tells him they're on the cell level, just out of sight of them.

Rex turns to his men. “Clear this level as quickly as possible!” he shouts. “Priority is  _ getting the prisoners out _ .”

And they leap into motion, as they have always done, as they were born to do, his  _ vod’e _ pushing themselves into yet another hopeless fight on his orders.

But now is not the time for such thoughts, so Rex runs with them as they form a solid line, shoot indiscriminately at every droid guard they see. These are mostly B1s and B2s, just a few commandos among them, and these fall far more easily. Rex and the Domino squad peel off toward the cell guarded by six commandos, the one that they know must be Echo’s. Rex begins hearing explosions which he suspects are from Cody’s squad, and he ignores them, throws himself into the fight with steady hands and anxiety thrumming in his stomach.

His small squad takes out the commandos in moments, and Rex tunes his wristcomm to Tuck. “Found anything?”

“ _ Maybe, sir - we're gonna need a minute _ .”

They may not  _ have _ a minute but Rex says, “We'll hold it.”

In the much wider, open corridors of the prison block he finally catches sight of Cody's men, and  _ gods _ it's a relief. Cody sends six troopers running off somewhere, salutes to Rex as he fires into a remaining squad of B2s. It seems clear that Dooku never expected them to get this far.

“ _ Opening the cells when you're ready, sir, _ ” Tuck says, and Rex says, “Wait.” On the helmet frequency, he swallows and relays the best orders he can. “We're about to let the prisoners go and they are our priority. I want every POW with a trooper. Be gentle and protect them at all costs; we leave none of them behind. Understood?” There's a chorus of “yes sirs” and he nods to himself. “We're here for them, remember. Now go ahead and open those doors, Tuck.”

And with the sound of dozens of doors unlocking and hissing open, Rex steps forward, heart in his throat, to  _ get Echo out _ .

~~~

Priority Asset #1, sometimes known as Echo on those rare days when the ocean retreats and he can  _ exist, _ blinks in stunned amazement at the open door of his cell and holds himself very, very still. There is still pain sparking along his skin from the latest punishment from the Master, no, from _ him, _ and the guards had been in, having their fun, before the alarms sounded and they'd all left. 

Now, he cannot trust the open doors. How can he, when he has thought he could make his escape before and it'd turned out to be a trap?

And then, and then, the box opens, and Echo _ remembers. _

He tries to stand, but there's _ pain _ and his legs won't listen to his commands and that's right, that's why he's still on the floor, because it _ hurts _ and standing is _ hard. _ Also, the world is whirling and his vision is blurry and he really should probably _ stay down. _

His memory is patchy and he can't quite remember things he thinks he should _ know, _ like where he is or _ why _ (he is an asset and his job is to tell the Master everything when the Master asks), but when the _ vod _ with familiar blue comes in, there's a name that Echo _ knows _ he wants.

“Fives?” he murmurs, hoarse, staring at the fuzzy, spinning person in front of him. “I knew you'd come…”

Fives kneels down by him. “It's okay,  _ vod,” _ he says. “I'm here now, let's go.”

Echo frowns. “Can't stand,” he says. Fives doesn't sound quite right, but that's okay, that doesn't _ matter, _ he's here. He's here. He's _ safe, _ he's not _ alone, _ they _ came. _ “Knew you'd come for me,” he repeats, the words slurring a little, blood heat and iron on his tongue.

“We got your message,” Fives says, and it takes him a moment to remember. Message? Oh, yes, right. He'd done--something. “Come on, let's get you home.”

“Home,” Echo repeats dimly. He almost doesn't know what _ home _ is, but there's a dull, blurry, vague image of grey corridors and rows of bunks and  _ blue _ and laughter and lightsabers, and he thinks he _ wants this, _ whatever it is. Yes, he wants _ home. _ “Please, Fives,” and his voice is raw and ragged and he thinks he might be crying. “Please…”

~~~

Rex’s throat is too tight to swallow, and his voice is gruffer than it should be as he eases his arm under Echo’s shoulders, helps him gingerly to his feet. “Yeah, I know. I got you,  _ vod _ . It’s gonna be a little bit but we’re going now, okay? We’re safe.”

Echo’s answer is barely more than a whimper, hoarse and exhausted. “I tried not to tell him, I tried,” and Rex has never seen a  _ vod’s _ eyes so haunted, “I tried, but the voice wouldn't get out and I had to forget and I told him, Fives, I told him  _ everything _ .”

Rex tries to swallow, it doesn’t quite work. The first step he tries to get Echo to take has his  _ vod _ stumbling against him with a soft groan. “I know, Echo, it’s okay. You’re fine.”

“You can’t tell the Captain, Fives,  _ please _ . He’d… he’d be so disappointed. Him and the General.”

_ Gods. _ Kriff. Rex grits his teeth so hard his jaw hurts and nods. “I won’t,  _ vod _ .” He just needs to get him out of here, get him back  _ home _ , back to Kix and safety.

Echo’s barely focusing and looks a mess; Rex has to avoid paying attention to most of it or he won’t be able to  _ think _ . He takes to murmuring nonsense under his breath as he half-carries Echo out of the cell, the Domino squad forming up around them, a hush falling over them even as they raise their blasters, ready to defend. This level is looking clear of droids, and Rex sees the squads bringing the prisoners to stand in a small knot together; some can’t stand or seem panicky or aggressive, and these are being held, supported, or restrained by soldiers. This is not ideal, Rex knows; most of these prisoners aren’t reassured by so many helmeted troopers, but he can’t help that now.

Tuck and Mit come running over to join them and Echo  _ flinches _ , hard; Rex sighs and stops walking, angles towards him so he can keep his voice lower. “Hey, Echo,  _ vod _ , I need to let Tuck here support you now, okay? Can I?”

Echo  _ shivers _ and shakes his head, hard, leaning further into Rex, and Rex sends Tuck a pleading look because he doesn’t know what to do. Tuck steps closer, but not  _ too _ close, and holds his empty hands a little out toward Echo, low and palms up, non-threatening. Echo jolts anyway, and Tuck eases a step back again. “Hey, it’s Echo, right? I’m Tuck. Is it okay if I try to help you a little?”

Echo looks up at Rex again and  _ gods, gods, gods _ Rex can’t do this. “Fives, I don’t want- I don’t-”

_ Kriff _ . “Yeah I know, but he’s a  _ vod _ . Part of our squad now.” Rex doesn’t have to see Tuck’s face to know he’s  _ deeply _ concerned, and Rex makes a small hand signal, roughly  _ “Yeah I know.” _

Echo doesn’t really seem to respond to that, and Rex swallows and gestures to Tuck, who tentatively walks over close enough to touch. Echo at least doesn’t  _ panic _ , although he is perpetually shaking now. “Tuck is gonna keep you safe,  _ vod _ , and I won’t be far.”

Rex sees Fives standing back by Echo’s cell, his face creased with grief, quiet.  _ Kriff _ , not  _ now _ .

Tuck moves slow, slow, careful, slides his arm around Echo on the other side and just waits, starts talking easily about the  _ Resolute _ , about getting him back to the Captain and the General and a bunk. Rex waits a moment before taking his arm away, but Echo still goes dead still even though he’s trembling, stares at him. “Wait, wait Fives, don’t leave me, I can’t-”

“Hey, hey,” Rex says, putting a hand on Echo’s chest, feels him steady just a touch. “I’m not, Echo, but I have to go make plans and make sure we can get out, okay?”

Echo is staring desperately at the eyeslits of his helmet, like he’s searching for expression there when there is none. Rex leaves his hand on Echo’s chest, feels him regain some pattern to his breathing, although it’s still fast and anxious. “Okay,” he says, almost a question.

And Rex takes his hand away, grits his teeth, and strides over to Cody, trying to pull steadiness back into his movements, to ignore Fives standing lost just in the corner of his vision.

Cody puts a hand on his shoulder as soon as Rex stops next to him, and it’s grounding, it helps. “I sent some men to see if there’s anything like a balcony or a landing pad anywhere above us where the transports could pick us up,” he says. “We have to get these prisoners out of here.”

“I know. Echo’s a mess,  _ ori’vod _ , he… he’s calling me Fives and I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t.”

Cody sighs heavily. “No. I should be hearing back soon; we might as well get moving while we can, before the clankers and the Sith catch up to us. All the squads are here except Beta’s squad. I don’t think there’s any use waiting for them.”

So Beta’s squad was the one facing Savage. Rex’s stomach  _ hurts _ and he doesn’t want to do this, he wants to go  _ home _ . “You’re right,” he says. Because he needs to get these prisoners home, needs to get them out of here and to safety.

“Alright squads!” Cody shouts, and Rex sees the soldiers and the newly-arrived  _ mando’ade _ form up around the prisoners, most of whom are flinching. That’s not good, but they can’t afford to worry about it for now. Tuck has Echo, and Jesse is standing close by them too. “We’re moving. Goal is to get transports down and get out of here. The safety of the prisoners is  _ top priority _ , no questions. We get them out  _ first _ .” Cody’s wristcomm beeps and he answers, everyone already moving, Rex shoulder-to-shoulder with his  _ ori’vod _ . “What are we looking at, Spec?”

_ “Got a small landing pad two levels up from you, Commander,”  _ Spec answers. “ _ Not too many clankers in the way if you’re fast. I called for the transports already. _ ”

“Received. Get your asses back to the squad; we’ll meet you halfway.”

Rex unholsters his blasters again, swallows, and shoves all the anxiety well back (it takes too much effort, more than it should) so he can focus. They’ve almost made it, they could kriffing  _ do this _ . “Come on,  _ ori’vod _ ,” he says. “I want to get Echo home.”

“Me too,” Cody growls.

Rex understands. They lost Echo once, they aren’t kriffing letting him down again. They can’t.

~~~

There are no more commando droids still  _ together, _ in the room; they’ve all been reduced to sparking piles of scrap. Ahsoka looks down at the one she’s just dispatched, lowering her ‘sabers, and tries to find some kind of  _ feeling. _

But there’s just  _ nothing, _ just numbness, the way she’s felt since they’d gotten on the transports to come down. 

She supposes that’s probably not good, but she can’t quite get the energy to  _ care; _ she’s here because Anakin needs her and because Dooku needs to die and that’s it, that’s all, and soon enough she can be back on the  _ Resolute _ and she can dream again, she can  _ stop. _ She won’t have to fight. She can curl up with Rex and not have to say anything to anyone. She can finally be  _ warm, _ be safe, be happy. That’s all she wants, right now.

She’s so  _ cold. _

So tired.

She lifts her eyes from the commando droid, finally, nods a little to herself, and shifts her attention to Dooku, and Jak, and the rest of the room--Dooku and Jak are just the closest of the fights, and so that’s the one she pays attention to. Kix and Elle (how could  _ Elle _ be the traitor, a part of her wonders, but the rest of her is too icy to care) and the Sith girl, Ca’tra?, are gone, probably back to the  _ Resolute; _ Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan are fighting Maul, who is blindingly fast and skilled and far too good for Bo-Katan alone. She thinks maybe even Obi-Wan, one of the best duelists in the Order, would be struggling by himself, but Bo-Katan is  _ good _ with the darksaber, if unconventional, not using anything even  _ resembling _ the Jedi forms.

And Dooku has his ‘saber out, is lunging at Jak in perfect, precise, polished execution of Djem Sho, which a part of her finds amusing--he might be a Sith now, but he began in the Jedi Order, and that shows in his usage of the Jedi forms. Although, she  _ thought _ she remembered him specializing in Makashi, so… maybe his whole becoming-a-Sith thing made him more aggressive after all. Not that it matters. Jak doesn’t use any Jedi forms either, fights like Bo-Katan but with twice the rage and four times the power behind his strikes, and he has two vibroblades, making him a  _ difficult _ opponent.

Still, Dooku is  _ Dooku, _ and a Sith Lord, the Sith Master now, and while Jak is good he’s not a Force-sensitive, doesn’t have that extra augmented strength and power and speed and balance and that extra  _ sense, _ to tell him when Dooku is about to strike, to tell him what that particular  _ twist _ of Dooku’s hand means.  _ Ahsoka _ could tell Jak what it means, but she doesn’t really have time to, and anyway, that would mean  _ talking, _ that would mean  _ moving, _ and there’s too much ice for that. So she just  _ stands _ and watches as Dooku’s hand  _ moves _ and Force-lightning flashes sharp and crackling across the room and slams into Jak, hard, knocks the warrior off his stride, and then Dooku’s lightsaber sparks red, like flame, like blood, and slashes deep into Jak’s side. The Mandalorian warrior  _ growls, _ but the lightning flares in response and there’s a pulse of Force behind it and Jak is flung across the room to land near Ahsoka’s feet.

She looks down at him, a part of her thinking maybe she should help him up, maybe she should defend him, but her ‘sabers are hissing silver by her side and she can’t seem to muster up the warmth to melt the ice enough to try and fight. She  _ should _ want to, but… but she’s  _ cold, _ and moving means  _ effort, _ and fighting means  _ pain, _ and she’s so  _ tired _ of pain. So, so tired. So she stands there, and watches, and tilts her head to one side, vaguely curious, as Dooku approaches her cautiously, frowning. 

“Padawan Tano,” he says slowly, his ‘saber up defensively, as though she’s about to lunge at him. The very  _ thought _ makes her want to laugh (if the ice would crack enough to allow her to even smile)--he can’t seriously be looking at her stance right now and think an attack is forthcoming, can he? (A little tiny voice whispers  _ it could be a ruse, you should be attacking him, he’s a Sith Lord, _ but she ignores it.) “Are you--” and he stops, shaking his head, looking utterly  _ confused. _

She’s not quite sure why.

“Are you alright, young Padawan?” he finally says, sounding almost  _ concerned, _ which is really quite hilarious. 

She half-shrugs, breaks the ice enough to say, “Why do you ask?”

His expression becomes even  _ stranger, _ at that. “Usually,” he says slowly, cautious, “you would be attacking me by now.”

Well, she supposes that’s probably true. In a way. But fighting  _ hurts, _ and the ice is so thick she can barely breathe around it now. So she won’t. She  _ won’t. _ Not anymore. She shrugs one shoulder again, doesn’t say anything--there’s too much ice. Too much coldness. Dooku frowns again, looks at her, and she thinks maybe he’s figuring something out.

“You used to have so much  _ fire,” _ he says, very softly, almost  _ regretful. _ “Now look at you, child. Still just a broken slave.”

Ahsoka can’t help it, the ice isn’t  _ enough; _ she  _ flinches. _

And, from the floor, Jak  _ roars. _ She jerks a little, stumbles back a step, finds herself tripping over droid parts and slamming into the wall, and she’s pinned in place by Dooku’s gaze, can’t get away, because he’s--he’s--he’s  _ right. _ He’s right, he’s right, he’s right, and she can’t--she doesn’t know what to  _ think, _ what to do. There’s so much ice around her but it’s all shattered shards, and it feels like it’s cutting her into  _ ribbons, _ and it hurts and she doesn’t  _ want to hurt anymore. _ Please, just  _ no more _ pain. She  _ can’t _ take it.

She thinks, distantly, that if she wasn’t so  _ cold, _ she’d be crying.

…

Jak discards his helmet on the floor, doesn’t  _ care _ where it lands; he has more important things to worry about right now. Including the way the  _ jetii _ has simply… frozen, looks startlingly young and vulnerable and  _ scared _ there, against the wall. Her scars stand out sharply on her neck and headtails and arms, and Jak thinks of his years in chains, because of  _ this dar’jetii, _ this  _ creature. _ Thinks of the days this  _ evaar’la jetii _ spent in chains, also because of this creature, this  _ thing _ masquerading as a man. And Dooku  _ dares _ to taunt her about her days in chains, as though he has  _ any _ idea at all what slavery is like? As though this one, who has ever been privileged and empowered, who has known nothing but strength and satisfaction and the richest of things that life can provide, understands what it is like to be beaten and whipped, to be  _ less _ than the galaxy, to be ground beneath another’s boots, to be valued below the very dust upon the ground? No, this one does not. He knows  _ nothing _ of the workings of the universe, only the prestige of power and the fruits of fame.

Jak  _ rages. _

He leaps to his feet, fluid and utterly disregarding the gaping burn in his side, his vibroblades out, and he  _ lunges. _ Dooku is forced to spin, whirl with his ‘saber up, to block, and there’s a flash of  _ horrified _ recognition on his face.

“My name is Jak Ordo,” Jak growls out, presses his vibroblades harder into Dooku’s saber. “Do you remember me  _ now,  _ Dooku?”

And he jerks back a step, disengaging abruptly, and the  _ dar’jetii _ stumbles at the sudden loss of something to press against, overreaching. Good. Jak strikes up with one blade, down with the other, and Dooku is left stumbling to one side to avoid, because he has one ‘saber and cannot block both blades at once. He is a fool, Jak thinks, to rely so heavily on his  _ jetii _ forms; Jak most certainly does  _ not _ use any  _ jetii _ combat style, and neither does any  _ mando’ad, _ so what is the point? Yes, he thinks the forms have their place, but not here, not now, and if one cannot improvise one cannot  _ fight. _ He feints with both blades, smiles savagely when Dooku staggers again, unprepared for his ferocity and unpredictability. There is no rhyme, no rhythm, to the way Jak fights with his vibroblades, and that is entirely the  _ point _ of Mandalorian  _ kad _ fighting. 

And, for all his prowess with his  _ forms, _ this  _ dar’jetii _ cannot process  _ unpredictable. _

It takes only a moment for Jak to maneuver Dooku to a point where he is off-balance and wavering, and then he  _ twists _ and severs both Dooku’s hands at the wrist. The  _ dar’jetii _ falls to his knees, eyes going comically wide, and Jak allows himself another wolf’s snarling smile. He sheaths his vibroblades and bends down, lifts Dooku’s  _ jetii’kad _ in his palm, twists it back and forth experimentally, finding the balance. He nods to himself, aware of Dooku’s terrified gaze, presses the switch to light the blade. It handles differently than his vibroblades, but not enough to unbalance him, and he holds the red blade up, eyes it interestedly.

This, then, is the same weapon to cause him such pain, all those years before--the blade that slew so many of his  _ vode, _ his fellow  _ mando’ade. _ The very same  _ jetii’kad _ that left him blind in one eye and lucky to have the other.

Fitting.

“I will give you whatever you want, soldier,” Dooku says, his voice tinged with terror, with desperation, and Jak can’t help it: he  _ laughs. _

It’s jagged and sharp-edged and bloody, torn from his throat like so many raw screams of pain over the years, and he thinks he can hear every single one of those unwanted cries in the cadence of his laughter. There’s little  _ amusement _ in it, and a great deal of  _ threat, _ and even one as  _ di’kutla _ as this  _ dar’jetii _ can see that. Still, he might as well play the creature for a moment, let Dooku think he has found salvation. But not without exacting the beginning of his  _ skira. _ So he angles his wrist, runs his single eye calculatedly over Dooku’s face, finds the angle, and scores the tip of the  _ jetii’kad _ deep into the bones of Dooku’s face, across his eye and nose and ending near the far side of his chin. There is no blood: there is never any blood.  _ Kad _ wounds cauterize instantly. He steps back, surveys his work, pleased. The gaping wound is a mirror image of the one he himself had been dealt by this very blade so long ago. “Whatever I want, you say?” he asks, idly.

Dooku nods, sharp and violent and desperate, and there are tears streaming from his unmarred eye, and he is clearly in severe pain when he sobs out,  _ “Please, _ anything.”

Jak nods, thoughtful. “Give me those two hundred ninety-eight  _ mando’ade _ you wrongfully massacred on Galidraan. Give me their lives. Return them to their  _ aliite, _ to their  _ buire _ and  _ vode _ and  _ ade.” _ He lets that sink in for a long, long moment, lets Dooku feel the way it  _ burns, _ the way everything goes cold and dark and grey when the last light of hope slips away. Lets him feel the heavy weight of inevitability, the gravitational pull of the  _ click _ of cuffs locking shut. The choking tightness of a Zygerrian collar snapping about one’s neck. The horrid anticipation of the bite of the lash, the shock of electricity.

And then, because Jak is  _ Mando’ad, _ because he now serves under  _ jetiise _ who have been in chains and yet forgiven the ones who enslaved them, because he has  _ honor _ even though he is not kind, is not  _ good, _ Jak locks eyes with Dooku and thrusts the red  _ jetii’kad _ through the Sith’s heart.

~~~

With what’s left of three battalions in a tight defensive formation, near-desperate, what little opposition they meet is easily swept away, crushed underfoot, barely a concern. It’s the droids  _ behind _ them, the Sith that Rex knows is coming now, that keep them moving  _ fast _ , fighting ruthlessly. Rex is  _ tired _ and his wound is giving him trouble but he has no problems keeping up with Cody.

Both of them step out onto the landing pad first, into the blistering heat and dark, and there’s no enemy fire, no threat. Just  _ transports _ , thank the little gods, three of them set down but ready to take off again, and Rex waves for the troopers to bring the prisoners out. They’ll get them away first and then, then Rex can get off this ball of rock.

He goes to Echo, helps Tuck move him towards a transport; Echo looks incredibly lost and confused, but Rex thinks his presence helps. “Fives,” Echo says, and Rex nods.

“Yeah,  _ vod _ . Told you I wasn’t going anywhere. We just need you to get on that transport and you can go home. You’ll be safe then, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Echo looks like he’s trying to hold himself together with a numb grip, and Rex pushes them to move just a little faster because they need to  _ go _ , there’s an entire army coming and he has to get Echo out, get him safe. “You’re not gonna tell the Captain?”

“No,  _ vod _ , I promised. Come on, let’s go.” Rex’s instinct says they’re running out of time and he doesn’t know how to do this. He thinks Tuck is concerned about him but he makes that not matter, shifts so even more of Echo’s weight rests on his shoulders. “You should go with him, Tuck. Some of these people are gonna need a medic.”

“But you-”

“I’m not getting on a transport until everyone else is off too. It’s fine, just stay with him, for kriff’s sake.”

Tuck sighs audibly and nods. “Okay. Okay, Echo, we’re gonna get on the transport now. Fives is… Fives is gonna catch up to us later,” and Rex knows this deception is one he’s going to regret, but it’s keeping Echo calm, so it has to be okay. He helps Echo the last few feet to the transport, then pulls back again so Tuck’s supporting him on his own.

Brii comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Captain?”

Rex  _ almost _ laughs. “Fine, Brii. We got him.”

“Yeah, sir.”

Rex wants to tell Brii that he was the first one to paint Echo’s armor, wants to tell him he’s known Echo since he was a shiny and he  _ hates this _ \- but that will wait. He goes to the next transport, helps a few more POWs onto it and some of their injured troopers. The prisoners end up taking two full transports, the wounded another - and not all the wounded can go yet. Not ideal.

The transports take off and Rex feels a brief surge of relief; they’ll send more down for them, for the rest of the wounded, and it’ll be fine. It will.

Except then the first blaster bolts come from inside the base, from the door to the landing pad, and Rex’s heart plummets to somewhere in his stomach.  _ Kriff _ . Kriff, he expected they’d have more time than this, at least enough to get the rest of the wounded to safety. Loading the transports will be dangerous now, take too long, and how to hold off this army for long enough to get their battalions out of here? This isn’t good.

“Form up!” Cody shouts, and they do, the  _ mando’ade _ moving as if they’ve always done this, as if they know the formations as well as the clones. At first it’s easy, the door is a bottleneck and the droids are so  _ easy _ to shoot - but there are also so many  _ more _ of them and it doesn’t take long for a few to break through, for them to spill out into the dark anyway and Rex sees the next transports on the way and it’s going to be  _ hell _ trying to get them loaded, and-

Something shrieks out of the entryway into their right flank and explodes with a dull roar that shakes the entire landing pad, sending troopers and  _ mando’ade _ flying, and smoke creeps heavy and slow across his vision with no wind to lift it. When it does clear enough to see, when his men have regrouped somewhat, Rex freezes because the droids have brought an artillery unit. Rocket launchers, heavy weaponry - guns that can take out their transports.

If they try to land their ships and get anyone out of here on them, the droids can just blow the kriffing transports out of the sky.

Rex looks at Cody, sees his  _ ori’vod _ go tense, back perfectly straight. “I need to tell them not to send any more transports,” Cody says. And he’s right. They’d just be wasting ships and pilots if they tried to get out that way. More clankers are pouring out, forming a guard around the artillery, lining up and still  _ shooting _ and  _ gods, gods _ they’re so exposed and this is going to be a disaster, going to be a kriffing  _ slaughter _ and Rex doesn’t  _ want  _ to tell the transports not to come, doesn’t want to give up the option of escape.

But it isn’t an option, it really isn’t. Rex grits his teeth, looks around at his troops, who are all still fighting, like they always do, like they must, and he tunes into the helmet comm frequency, even though they don’t have options.

“We need to tell them to stop sending transports,” he says, because he is  _ not _ going to give that order without telling them, won’t be that kind of Captain. “We’re going to be on our own.”  _ We’re going to die _ . And he doesn’t know how to ask that of them, he never  _ has _ .

Cody grips his pauldron for a second, and Rex just keeps shooting, swallows against a lump in his throat.

And all three battalions snap out, “Yes sir!” in unison, loud enough that it echoes, all conviction.

“Yeah,  _ vod _ ,” and Rex knows the cadence well enough to know it’s Brii on comms. “We get it.”

Rex falters, just for a moment, doesn’t know what to  _ do _ with that. Cody’s relaying the order into his comm already, voice grim, and Rex shifts, looks around at his  _ vod’e _ and the Mandalorians, tightens his grip on his blasters. He can't let them do this, even though there is no choice - he can't let this happen to them.

But they did what they came here to do. Echo isn't going to have to suffer anymore, he's going home. And he’s with Tuck, and Tuck is safe, and the other prisoners are safe. They've saved them, they've gotten them and given them a chance, so… so that’s enough, Rex thinks. Hells, he thinks it would be enough if they’d just saved Echo.

Apparently, his men think it’s enough too. Enough to die for. Enough that they aren't hesitating. And his throat aches and he feels a little sick but that is their choice as much as it is his, if they're going to accept this.

The droids are starting to advance, and Rex raises his hand, gives a signal for his troops to move too. Domino squad starts falling in next to him, just Brii and Jesse and Tup now, and Rex can hear a grim smile in Jesse’s voice as he says, “Let’s make sure they remember us.”

Rex pulls up tight, thick shields around his thoughts, around the bond, because he is not going to make Ahsoka feel this more than she must, and feels fire building in his veins, readiness, almost a thrill. “We will,” he says to Jesse, a promise, a threat.

If this is how he’s going to lose everything he’s ever fought for, so be it. It’s kriffing worth it.

~~~

The darksaber sings in her hands as Bo-Katan twirls it, twists, lunges at Maul with the inherent grace of one who’s been a warrior since she could walk. Her leg  _ aches _ where Maul kicked it--there’s a lot of power and force in those metal legs, not to mention  _ Force-- _ but she grits her teeth and presses through it, because she  _ cannot _ appear weak right now. Not in front of these  _ mando’ade _ who will turn from her and follow Maul once more if she falters.

So she clenches her jaw and tightens her hands around the hilt of the darksaber and pushes herself harder, faster. She  _ has to do this. _ Has to prove she is the rightful  _ Mand’alor, _ and not just because it’s likely the entire strike team will die if she doesn’t; this is  _ personal, _ too personal, and a part of her  _ needs _ this confirmation. 

Ever since she was old enough to sit at her  _ buir’s _ knee and listen to him tell stories, she’d dreamed of one day holding the darksaber in her hands, defeating challenger after challenger who’d thought to take the place of  _ Mand’alor _ from her. Now, this is those dreams made real, only this time, the consequences of failure are far, far greater. 

And her sister is counting on her to bring this  _ jetii _ home.

There’s a rush of sound from the far end of the room, and Bo-Katan allows herself a brief glance away from Maul, over at the other duel going on; Jak is wielding Dooku’s  _ jetii’kad _ like he’s held one his whole life, and there’s a gaping gash down the  _ dar’jetii’s _ face. It is, she thinks, fitting. Deserved.

Maul’s ‘saber flashes and Bo-Katan has to  _ focus, _ again, to block and parry and launch a counterstrike of her own--and the next time she has a breath to look over at Jak, Dooku is dead on the ground and Jak is speaking to Tano in a low voice. Good, that’s good, and she can focus on Maul again, breathing easier now. 

It takes  _ time, _ but Kenobi is  _ skilled _ and she has been fighting with blades since she could hold a stick in her palm and Maul has only a single ‘saber, and finally she and Kenobi succeed in getting Maul backed against the wall, the quarters too tight for the Sith Lord to Force-jump out of the trap. Kenobi glances over at her, fingers twitching in a hand signal, and she nods once. 

Yes.

Kenobi’s blue ‘saber flares brightly, leaves an afterimage ghosting across her vision, and when she can  _ see _ properly again the  _ jetii _ Master has Maul’s heavy crimson ‘saber in his left hand. Success. Bo-Katan smiles, nods her thanks, steps forward--the darksaber’s squared-off tip hovering directly over Maul’s heart.

_ “Cetar,” _ she snaps out, harsh and uncompromising. “Submit. On your knees,  _ dar’jetii _ scum.”

Maul  _ laughs, _ his red-yellow eyes boring into her own, and she shivers a little, controls the reaction, in case the watching Shadow Collective think it a weakness. “It’s a pity you chose to ally yourself with the pitiful, peace-loving coward you call a  _ sister,” _ he says, almost regretful, and  _ kark _ she wants to wipe that disgusting smirk off his face. “We could have taken the galaxy, had you allied with me.”

“The galaxy will never be worth all Mandalore,” she says, her voice low, and she takes a step forward and presses the tip of the darksaber further into the fabric of Maul’s robes, until the ‘saber burns a neat hole. “I and my  _ sister _ may have different views, different opinions, but no  _ dar’jetii _ can ever offer any  _ mando’ad _ a greater thing than the unification of all  _ mando’ade.” _ She smiles, then, sure and certain. Cocks her head to one side, and this time  _ hers _ is the predatory stare,  _ he _ is the one to shudder. “But then again, you are  _ dar’manda, _ could never hope to understand.”

“And the Jedi can?” Maul asks, and he’s trying  _ so hard, _ she thinks, to salvage something from this.

“The Jedi have never claimed to, not since the massacre of Galidraan,” she says quietly, coldly. “The one who led that massacre lies dead on the floor, slain by the only survivor:  _ tor _ and  _ gra’tua _ all in one.” Maul doesn’t speak the language, he doesn’t know the words, but Kenobi does. Kenobi does, and he  _ nods _ agreement, though his eyes are pained. “You tried to take our planet, our home, and you learned only enough of our customs to enable your takeover,” she spits out, holding the darksaber steady even as she steps closer. “You should have bothered to educate yourself more  _ thoroughly _ before you tried to take control of a world of warriors.”

“I know your code of honor--”

She cuts him off, because that is  _ pathetic, _ and also rather amusing. “You know  _ nothing _ of mando  _ ijaat. _ Now  _ submit.” _

He holds his head high, stands tall and proud and smirking, and says, “I will never submit to a null. I am a  _ Sith--” _

She cuts him off again, nodding.  _ “Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain victory.” _ He looks shocked, for the first time, and that would be funny if the situation wasn’t so tense. “Yes, I know your Code,  _ dar’jetii. _ And, by your own Code, I am passionate--all  _ mando’ade _ are--therefore, I have strength. And I am strong, stronger than you are, for I have gained victory.”

She pauses to take a breath, and Maul starts speaking again, hurried. “You would never have defeated me without the help of Master Kenobi, of a  _ Jedi.” _

“Perhaps,” she acknowledges, and she knows the  _ mando’ade _ around the room are tensing, surprised at the admission. She inclines her head, an acknowledgement of the validity of his point. “But in the past, Mandalore has always fallen because we stand alone against the galaxy.” She straightens her spine, looks around at the warriors, who are edging closer and closer to hear--because this is no longer about Maul. This is about the new direction she and Satine are choosing, and whether or not the  _ Mando’ade _ will follow. These ones, these warriors, are among the most traditional, and if she can convince them, she can convince  _ all of them. _ “A clan that fights alone will always fall--in the end, we are nothing without  _ aliit, _ without family, without clan. I fight for the good of Mandalore, Maul, not for my own selfish pursuits--and I have the strength to put aside old feuds, old prejudice, to ensure Mandalore’s survival.” There’s sickening realization dawning in his eyes, the knowledge that he’s  _ underestimated _ her. “You are not fit to be  _ Mand’alor,” _ she says quietly, her words heavy with inevitability, the ancient weight of gravity, of Fate. “Thrice I ask and done,  _ dar’jetii: _ submit.”

This, at least, Maul knows. “And thrice I say and swear: I will  _ never.” _

“So be it,” Bo-Katan murmurs, and she takes a deep breath in. “It is done.”

And, in a single swift, smooth motion, she jerks the darksaber up and through Maul’s neck.

…

The room is surprisingly silent after Bo-Katan’s proclamation, silent enough that the muted  _ thunk _ of Maul’s head hitting the floor, followed by the much louder crash of the Sith’s body, complete with durasteel legs, echoes slightly. Around the perimeter of the room, the Shadow Collective warriors are tense as a durasteel cable stretched to the breaking point, and Anakin has to fight the urge to shiver: the tension in the air is thick enough he could cut it with a lightsaber, and about to snap, and his survival instinct tells him he doesn’t want to be here when it does.

But he holds himself still anyway, forces himself to watch the Mandalorians, wait for the slightest sign of hostility--if he’s fast enough, he might even be able to ensure his team’s survival.

He’s not as familiar with Mandalorian customs as he’d  _ like _ to be, as Obi-Wan is, but he does recognize the one Bo-Katan had invoked with Maul:  _ thrice I ask and done. _ A question asked and answered three times is binding. It’s an ancient tradition originating from the threefold swearing of vows by truth, honor, and vision. By refusing three times to submit, Maul had basically forced Bo-Katan to kill him to end the challenge, which is--probably why she’d invoked the custom, to try and keep the Shadow Collective warriors from killing her or Obi-Wan for Maul’s death. It’s the smallest bit of insurance, in case they decide Obi-Wan’s participation rendered the challenge broken.

And then one warrior steps forward (and Anakin nearly ignites his ‘saber again) and drops to one knee, bowing their head.  _ “Mhi shekemir, Mand’alor. Haat, ijaa, haa’it.” _

It feels like the entire  _ room _ lets out a relieved breath; Bo-Katan nods gravely, says, “I accept your allegiance,” and the warrior rises.

Dooku and Maul are both dead. It almost seems too good to be true.

But they can celebrate  _ later; _ there’s still another Sith on the loose, and three battalions to account for--the battle is not finished yet. So Anakin keys his wristcomm to Rex’s frequency, says, “What’s the situation, Captain?”

There’s a crackle of static, less the kind that indicates jamming technology and more white-noise feedback of too much conflicting background noise.  _ “We’re trapped, sir” _ Rex says quietly, and Anakin’s blood runs cold.  _ “Landing platform a couple levels above the prison block. The Seppies brought heavy artillery, we can’t land the transports. But we got Echo out, sir, and all the prisoners, and most of the wounded.” _ He pauses, then continues.  _ “Savage Oppress is en route to our position. We will hold him here, buy you time to get out. It’s--it’s been an honor to serve with you, General.” _

No. Kriff, no, he’s  _ not doing this. _ “Kriff that, Rex,” he snarls into the comm. “Maul and Dooku are dead. We’re  _ not leaving without you. _ Hold as long as you can. We’re coming for you.” He gestures to Obi-Wan, to the rest of the strike team, because this may be hopeless, they may be too late, but he  _ doesn’t leave anyone behind. _

Anakin has not suffered so much, has not lost so much through this whole karking war, to lose them all  _ now. _

Not this time.

~~~

There are too many droids. They crowd Rex and his troops back to the very edge of the landing pad; they overwhelm by sheer number, by the fact that they just keep coming, never stop. Protecting the wounded who can’t fight is taking too much focus, but that can’t be helped. Rex has put away his pistols in favor of a blaster rifle taken from the limp hands of a dead  _ vod _ , one he can use as a blunt weapon. He’s lost all track of everything that isn’t  _ essential _ , so it’s just slamming the rifle back into a droid behind him while shooting another attacking him, it’s just a line of fire when a blaster bolt sears the outside of his thigh, it’s just fighting for what little ground he can hold.

Anakin says they’re coming, says they’ve killed Dooku and Maul, and that’s  _ good _ , that’s enough too. Another victory somewhere in all this loss. But he doesn’t think Anakin can get here, not before they lose their footing and the droids overwhelm them. And he isn’t sure how his General will take that, but that’s out of his hands, has to be.

He gets his feet swept out from under him by a commando droid, and for a moment he’s  _ down _ and the droid’s blaster is pressed under his chin and he can’t see anything but the fighting as he twists, shoots the droid in the faceplate, struggles back to his feet. And when he’s on his feet again, the Sith is there, striding through the entryway with steps that Rex thinks could shake the landing pad.

Rex has seen Savage Opress on the holos, knows all the reports about his brutality, but that’s done nothing to prepare him for the visceral horror of seeing him coming with that blood-red saber held in both hands, casually deflecting blaster shots, his heavy face curled in a predatory snarl. He wades easily through the droid army, taller and broader than any Zabrak Rex has ever seen, and every single instinct Rex has says he needs to run,  _ now _ , but there’s nowhere to run  _ to _ . Savage’s eyes glow yellow with the kind of battle-hunger Rex knows to fear, the same fire he’d seen in Krell’s eyes, and he realizes he’s going to have to watch as yet again, his men are slaughtered without even a hope of defending themselves against this  _ thing _ . None of them were made to fight gods and monsters, just to be killed by them.

There’s more blasterfire concentrated on Savage now because all of them  _ know _ : the moment Savage is close enough to reach them with that double-bladed saber, they’ve lost, but Savage twirls the saber with a look of annoyance, like he’s swatting flies, and deflects the bolts back into Rex’s men, and then he pushes into a run, through the hail of blaster bolts, and slams into their ranks with the force of a hurricane and Rex can  _ barely _ keep fighting because he’s going to be  _ sick _ . Savage sweeps his saber smooth, fast, and  _ rows _ of Rex’s  _ vod’e _ fall, the space around the Sith clearing as bodies in white and blue and orange pile at his feet and it isn’t  _ fair _ . This isn’t right, he’s so  _ tired _ of this, of being helpless in the face of power like that, of losing men to something they can’t even fight against.

And so what if they’re going to die anyway (and  _ gods _ they’re all screaming and it’s all panic, no more of the steely purpose they’d had moments ago, and that’s  _ not right _ ), if it’s hopeless and they  _ knew _ that, it isn’t  _ fair _ that so many should die so fast, that their last stand has become an indiscriminate massacre.

Rex scrambles away from that fight, tries to just hold his own ground and kill clankers and not  _ look _ , not watch, because what can he do, anyway? He promised he’d try to hold Savage off but he won’t be able to, none of them will, and it’s not right but it’s what’s going to happen because none of them can survive a fight with that thing. Dogma couldn’t, Fives couldn’t, Rex-

The thought comes unbidden that  _ he could _ . Rex recoils from it because he couldn’t, he only survived Sidious because Ahsoka came and killed him and got Rex out.

But he did survive it, all the same.

Rex twists, drives his shoulder into a droid that’s grabbed onto his pauldron, and shoots it through the chest, feeling dizzy, overwhelmed. He takes a few stumbling steps further away from Savage (and he sees Catter fall in his distinctive striped armor and it isn’t right, isn’t right, isn’t right), clinging tight to his blaster rifle.

He survived Krell, too. Survived Kadavo and the slavers and Kamino and Sidious, and he knows he’s endured so much more, so much worse than most of his  _ vod’e _ . He knows pain he hopes they will never have to, and he is sick of it, doesn’t want it anymore, doesn’t want-

And again he thinks, without meaning to, without  _ wanting _ to, that he can take it. That he has the scars to prove that he can. That the pain twisting in his gut right now says that he can take and survive what his men can’t, what he wouldn’t ask them to. And they’ve never asked him for this, they’ve never expected it from him, not once - but they don’t have to.

Because he’s their Captain. Because he knows that they’re all going to die anyway, that that’s what they  _ chose _ , but they didn’t choose to die without purpose, without being able to fight it like they were born to do, and he knows he can at least slow Savage down. He sees it in the Sith’s fighting style, sees he is brutal and ruthless and skilled but that he also relies on that saber, on the strength, on being matchless.

And Rex feels sick and something in him screams to just let it go, that this will be a waste, that it will make no difference whether he dies here fighting clankers or trying to take down Savage, but Rex straightens, tosses his blaster rifle to the ground and draws his pistols, a kind of strength and fire he's nearly forgotten rising in his chest. He pushes himself to a run, weaving between his  _ vod’e _ and clankers, his instincts still saying he needs to  _ stop, get away _ , but he ignores them.

So it will hurt, and he probably won’t win. He can take it.

He shoves into the panicked troopers trying to back away from Savage, tight ranks of men just trying to get away, survive, but they’re too packed together and he can’t get through. “Everyone kriffing  _ move _ !” he roars, and they do, because they always listen to him, they always follow his orders, and today that means giving him space to charge through their ranks, towards Savage and the sweeping red saber, the one that’s easy to predict, that Savage wields with more devastation than finesse. Rex blocks out the sounds of his men shouting for him to stop and the sounds of the rest screaming as they die and brings up both blaster pistols, shoots point blank at Savage’s face.

The Sith deflects both bolts, turns on him with a snarl, and Rex smiles grimly under his helmet, watches the blade slice down towards him, and at the last second dives under it, leaps back to his feet and fires again, and Savage’s whole attention locks onto him. The Sith growls, storms forward with his blades slashing in a blur of motion, but Rex just dances back and to the side so Savage’s back is to his troops, fires again and stays out of reach of the saber. His men shoot at the Sith’s exposed back, of course they do, and some bolts strike home - but that just seems like another annoyance and Savage snarls, turns and deflects the rest of the bolts, and Rex launches himself at him again because he needs the Sith’s focus on  _ him _ , not his men.

“ _ Rex, what the kriff are you doing? _ ” Cody says, on his comm, and Rex ignores it, shoots, and the bolt slams home into Savage’s side. His opponent snarls and twists, so much  _ faster _ than he has been, and the blade slices down and Rex is too close and he jerks backward, feels  _ heat _ too close to his face as the saber shears through the faceplate of his helmet, blackens his HUD display and he coughs, reaches up  _ fast  _ and yanks his helmet off, tosses it to one side.

Savage is still coming, and Rex jumps to the side as the blade comes down again, and Savage doesn’t correct the strike, just lets the saber score the floor of the landing pad before reengaging, and Rex smiles again because he understands this style of fighting, he knows it, and it’s different with a saber but it’s still predictable, still makes sense.

Savage underestimates him, thinks his brute strength will be enough to let him win. And hells, Rex doesn’t know, it probably will be. But maybe not. So he waits until Savage comes at him again, swinging his double-bladed saber at Rex’s head, and Rex ducks under it, under Savage’s reaching arm, and drives his armored shoulder into Savage’s gut, off-balances him enough that when he shoots through the Zabrak’s knee, he howls and falls, grabbing Rex’s arm and dragging him down too. Rex swears, tries to twist free and stand up, but Savage punches him in the face and Rex tastes blood, can’t  _ think _ as Savage slams his fist into Rex’s jaw again, and when his vision clears Savage is back on his feet, reaching down, curling a hand around Rex’s throat, and his breath cuts off fast, immediate. He doesn’t even know if it’s the Force or Savage’s grip but he can’t get a breath, and he struggles weakly as the Sith switches off his saber, puts the other hand around his throat too, lifts him off the ground. And Rex is vaguely aware of his men firing but the droids are too and Savage doesn’t even  _ care _ . His yellow, yellow eyes gleam with a single-minded focus, and, baring his teeth, he pulls Rex in closer.

Close enough that Rex could reach him. Close enough that Rex scrabbles at the Sith’s corded arms, remembers the vibroblade in his gauntlet. And Savage doesn’t flinch when Rex reaches towards his neck because Rex is just a soldier, not a threat, because Savage thinks he’s won, because Rex can’t even see and he’s  _ dying _ .

But he can still get the vibroblade out of his gauntlet, and with a last heaving struggle for breath he slips it free, draws his arm back and plunges the blade deep into Savage’s throat.

Savage staggers, and as Rex yanks the blade free again, the Sith drops him, and Rex can’t get his bearings fast enough to catch himself, hits the ground  _ hard _ and chokes, coughs, realizes dimly there’s blood all over his hands and face. But someone’s grabbing his shoulders, tugging off his gauntlet, fingers pressing to his wrist and he shouldn’t talk so he lets them figure it out on their own. That he’s  _ alive _ .

“ _ Kriff _ , sir,” they say, and Rex coughs a couple times and then, then he  _ laughs _ . Which hurts, and bats their hand away, rolls over and shoves himself to his feet (and the world spins, but he doesn’t care).

Words hurt, sound hoarse, but he forces them out anyway, blinks spots away from his eyes to look at Savage on the ground, blood pooling under his head. “Does this battle look over to you, Jesse?”

“No, sir,” Jesse says, and Rex finds his blasters on the ground, picks them up.

“I didn’t think so.” And Rex smiles, raises his blasters, cocks his head a little to the side. “Find a  _ mando’ad _ who can use that saber,  _ vod _ . The  _ dar’jetii _ doesn’t need it anymore.”

He wipes some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand and takes a deep a breath as he can manage, stands shoulder to shoulder with his  _ vod’e _ . The thrill of battle stays humming in his blood, something exultant and disbelieving making him want to keep laughing, even though they're going to die, even though this is still a battle and it isn't over.

He kriffing  _ did it _ , he earned his men time, earned them a chance.

Did what men like him weren't supposed to be able to do.

~~~

Jak stays near Ahsoka’s side as they start through the warren of corridors, for which she’s pathetically grateful; she feels like she’s shattering, leaving pieces of herself scattered behind her in a trail of breadcrumbs, and Jak’s steady presence helps. Not enough, but some.

“I was going to let him kill both of us,” she says quietly, for the second time. 

She  _ was, _ that’s the thing. Dooku had approached her, and she hadn’t even  _ tried _ to fight, she’d  _ laughed _ at the idea, left her ‘sabers hanging down by her sides and just  _ stood there. _ Jak had been risking his life to fight, had risked his life to  _ save her, _ and she hadn’t even raised her ‘sabers to help him.

She’s not sure if she’s more afraid or disgusted by herself.

“He was right,” she adds, shaky and soft, swallows hard. “I--I’m just a broken slave,” and she  _ shudders, _ feels the heavy weight of a collar around her neck, weighing her down. Even in  _ Kadavo, _ she’d still somehow found the strength to  _ fight, _ at the end of the day, when the time came--even though there had been so much  _ pain _ she’d hardly been able to breathe, to think. 

She’d  _ thought _ she’d moved past Kadavo, she’d  _ thought _ she’d healed, but… but here she is, hiding in her head, refusing to fight because it  _ burns _ and she’s so sick and  _ tired _ of hurting and never winning, never succeeding, still losing. Here she is, living in a dream, because--because she’s tired of the pain, because she would rather not live at all than have to  _ hurt  _ again.

She was going to let Dooku  _ kill her, _ and she thinks she’s going to be  _ sick, _ because she  _ knows _ that a part of her  _ welcomed it. _

“You are only a slave if you allow yourself to be,” Jak says simply, and she can’t help it--her hand goes to her neck on instinct, to the thick band of scar tissue there, and he gives her a sharp look. “The only collar you wear now is the one formed of your scars,  _ ad’ika, _ and your scars cannot shock you.”

She shudders, shakes her head, can’t quite take a proper breath. “I--I was--he--I would’ve let him kill me,” she says, can’t stop saying, “I would’ve, so I didn’t have to  _ hurt.” _

She expects Jak to be  _ disgusted, _ to leave her, but instead he shakes his head.  _ “Gar cuyan,” _ he says, frowns a bit, like he can’t find the right words. “You--the will to survive. Instinct,” he says finally, nods. “It is your survival instinct.”

“But--”

_ “Nayc. _ No arguments. When you are in chains, you do what you must. Stillness is survival.”

_ We do what we must. _

The words are an uncanny echo of the ones she’d told Kix on Kamino, and she jerks a little, stares at Jak. And it’s not  _ enough, _ because she’s still shaking, she’s still crumbling into dust, into ash, but--but,  _ you do what you must. _ “And--right now,” she starts, hesitantly, “what must we do, right now?”

Jak’s hands tighten around his blasters. “Fight,” he says simply, holds her gaze. “Save our  _ vode. _ And after,  _ ad’ika, _ after is when we break.”

After is when we break.

Ahsoka nods, takes a deep breath in, holds it until her lungs  _ ache, _ and then she lets it out slowly and ignites her lightsabers. Fight. Save her men. She can do that, she can hold it together, and then  _ after, _ when everyone is safe and away from this hellhole, after all this, she can shatter, she can sob, she can throw her ‘sabers as far from her as she can and not touch them until she feels like she can without being  _ sick. _

“Okay,” she says, breathes, in-and-out. “Okay, Jak.”

And Jak  _ smiles. _

…

When they finally find the droids, it’s because Anakin runs into one.

_ Literally. _

Ahsoka is just behind her Master when he rounds the corner and  _ slams _ into metal with a vicious swear and a  _ crack _ that she thinks is the sound of his hard, thick skull bouncing off durasteel; he staggers, hits his knees, and she doesn’t even  _ think, _ can’t let herself think, just slashes out with both ‘sabers and slices the B2 droid in half. It hits the ground in a clatter that echoes in her montrals, and she wants to freeze up, because  _ fighting is pain, _ but Jak is behind her taking aim and firing precise and perfect, one-two-three-four-repeat, and she remembers  _ we do what we must _ and  _ fight, save our brothers, _ and she takes a raw, scraping breath and leaps over Anakin’s head and attacks.

Behind her, now, Anakin’s getting back to his feet with a litany of anatomical suggestions snarled out in Huttese that she honestly thinks would be impossible for most sentients, let alone battle droids, and she has to resist the strange urge to comment something to that effect at him. Thankfully, Obi-Wan decides to pick up the mantle, because after a snapped out  _ may your intestines rot out your anus, _ the Jedi Master says, lightly amused, “Anakin, I don’t think battle droids are in possession of either intestines or anuses.”

“Not the  _ kriffing point,” _ Anakin yells, and Ahsoka ducks under a blaster shot, because the droids are catching on to the fact that there are  _ Jedi _ flanking them, decapitates the droid that’d fired it, deflects a handful of other bolts back into droids.

“You know, Skywalker,” Bo-Katan says casually, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet’s vocoder, “if you paid attention to where you were going--”

“Oh, will you  _ shut up!” _

One of the Shadow Collective warriors laughs, mutters, “The  _ Mand’alor’s _ got a point,  _ jetii.” _

Anakin either doesn’t hear or decides not to bother answering that one, because he just grumbles and slices through about ten droids like chaff. And there’s really no time or space for bantering after that, because while droids are  _ easy, _ there’s only a few of them and there’s so many droids and the landing pad that’s their target is so  _ far away. _ The only blessing, Ahsoka thinks, is that she can’t feel Savage’s Force-signature anymore, though she’s not quite sure  _ why; _ the Sith isn’t skilled enough to shield himself so completely, she doesn’t think, and she finds it hard to believe that one of the  _ vode _ could’ve killed him. It’s  _ possible, _ she supposes, but without a ‘saber…

Rex is still shielded from her, more heavily than she thinks he’s ever been, but it only makes  _ sense; _ she’s shielded her end of the bond off too, ever since she entered the room and saw Dooku and Maul and Savage  _ waiting _ for them and realized this was all just a trap, that they were all likely to  _ die. _

Except now they’re  _ not, _ now Dooku is dead and so is Maul and the Shadow Collective are following Bo-Katan’s orders and this could mean  _ the war is almost over, _ and she knows they  _ must _ break through the droids, because they can’t have fought all this, can’t have gone through all these years of war and pain and conflict, just to lose it all, lose  _ everything, _ right here at the end of all things. 

_ We do what we must, _ Ahsoka thinks, and she nods, steels herself. Shouts, “Everyone with grenades or droid poppers, get the kriff up here and  _ use them!” _ and makes herself go on the defensive for a moment while the Mandalorian squads surge forward. Somewhere between ten and fifteen grenades go off almost simultaneously, resulting in a  _ very _ loud roar and a flare of blindingly white flame and  _ heat, _ and she squeezes her eyes closed and  _ breathes _ for a moment as the explosions shake the ground beneath her feet.

When the dust settles (or as much as it ever does, here) and the world stops  _ vibrating, _ Ahsoka opens her eyes, appraises the situation. At first glance, that was  _ good, _ because a solid half the droids between them and the entrance to the landing pad are nothing but shrapnel, but there are holes in the walls and some wires and things hanging down and the lights  _ flicker, _ ominously.

Flicker, once, twice, snap back to full brightness--surge white--and suddenly go  _ dark. _

The corridor is, very abruptly, total blackness save for the glow of three lightsabers and the glow around the edge of the darksaber, and for a very long moment it  _ stays _ that way before the red emergency lighting snaps back on with a hum. The brightness keeps  _ fluctuating, _ though, and the hum changing in pitch, from where she thinks it should be to a high-pitched whine, and she thinks maybe they should  _ get outside. _

_ I think you’re right, Snips, _ Anakin tells her, and then his voice echoes in the corridor. “Okay, no more kriffing explosions, this base relies on stabilizers to keep it from falling into the lava, and in case you didn’t notice I think the  _ power just went down. _ Form up on me, everybody with a ‘saber in front, and let’s  _ get through these clankers _ before the ceiling comes down on our heads. Understood?”

There’s a chorus of  _ yes, sir! _ and Ahsoka breathes in, out, even though the smoke and ash and dust is turning her throat raw and burned, makes her way through the debris towards the door. The rest of the clankers there have, she thinks, also figured out the problem of the power, and they’re not exactly interested in  _ attacking-- _ still, she and Anakin and Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan cut through them anyway, because the only good battle droid is a dead one and they have to get  _ on that landing platform _ before, if what Anakin says is correct, the base starts collapsing.

The last clanker to die is a commando droid, and as it sparks and short-circuits it manages to seal the door; Ahsoka  _ swears, _ hands shaky around her ‘saber hilts, and slams the blades home into the thick door. Anakin helps, works from one side while she works from the other, but it still takes exactly  _ too long _ to cut through the blast doors and the emergency lights are wavering now, more like candles than anything else, making Ahsoka feel like she’s in a burning building (which doesn’t help the anxiety choked in a ball in her throat) unable to get out. 

Finally, though, they get the doors  _ open, _ and she and Anakin together Force-push the durasteel circle out onto a couple battle droids. Anakin leaps through the opening, she follows him, knows the rest of their team is behind her, and  _ we do what we must _ so she focuses exclusively on  _ killing clankers _ except she’s only a few steps away from the door when the scene  _ registers _ and--

And there are  _ dozens _ of dead troopers on the ground, blue and white and orange, and a few with brightly-painted  _ beskar’gam, _ all with ‘saber holes scorched black and burning through their skulls and chests and--and--and there’s smoke and ash thick and choking in the air, burning hot and scalding her throat, the stench of sulfur swirling with burning flesh and metal and screaming and she can’t help it, she tastes bile acidic in her mouth and then she’s vomiting (she’s not the only one who’s queasy, but that’s a small consolation), and Jak grabs her by the shoulders and steadies her and helps her to regain her footing. “Don’t think,  _ ad’ika,” _ he advises, and she swallows shakily, nods.

She’s trembling.

“We  _ must _ get that artillery unit down!” That’s Obi-Wan, shouting from somewhere to her right, and she focuses enough to see what he’s talking about. The heavy artillery is protected by at  _ least _ twenty destroyers with a squad of maybe sixty battle droids behind, and it looks like they’re all mostly  _ untouched _ despite the acrid taste of blaster smoke in the air, the way there are piles of droids scattered everywhere.

She’s not entirely sure how so  _ many _ droids could fit on a landing platform--and then she happens to look to one side and see squadrons upon squadrons crammed on the rocky, ash-choked banks of the lava flow. As droids die, more just keep taking their place, and she  _ swears _ because she thinks Dooku had expected the battalions to get this far all along, had  _ known _ their only escape would be to climb to this secondary landing platform and call transports. It’s  _ sick _ and horrible and they are  _ so outnumbered _ and she has no idea how in all the hells they’re supposed to  _ survive this. _

But, but.  _ We do what we must, _ and we break  _ after, _ and so she chokes on the awful awful air and catches Jak’s eye and jerks her head at the artillery. Jak flicks his fingers in a signal she recognizes, and she nods, takes another breath and says, “Leave that to Jak and I, Obi-Wan,” and she doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, just  _ leaps. _

One Force-jump has her halfway across the platform and wading through a literal  _ ocean _ of clankers, about half battle droids and the other half commandos, and  _ kriff _ but this is clearly where the lion’s share of Dooku’s forces have been hiding for the last few years. At first, the going is…  _ easy, _ really, there’s so many droids she  _ has _ to hit a few with every swing of her ‘sabers, but the platform is shifting and tilting and the metal is groaning and she realizes they have  _ no idea _ how long they have before the stabilizers cut out completely and this platform is swept away.

They’ve  _ got _ to get that artillery down so the transports can land and get the men off.

She takes a breath, shouts into her wristcomm, “I need transports just out of range of this artillery ready for emergency pickup the  _ instant _ I signal! We’re losing power to the stabilizers and this entire base is about to go up in flames.”

_ “Copy that, Commander,” _ a voice says, and she nods, satisfied, and then--

_ Kriff, _ ow, a line of fire screams across her left arm and for a moment she doesn’t think she’ll be able to raise her ‘saber but she  _ must, _ and she swears but forces herself  _ forward, _ flips up and lands a few meters from the destroyers, starts deflecting blaster bolts as fast as she can and shouts, “Jak,  _ now!” _

And Jak kicks off into the air, his jetpack roaring, and drops a veritable  _ rain _ of grenades and droid poppers down, the sheer  _ force _ of the explosions tossing destroyers around like toys, and  _ kriff _ okay she should’ve planned that better, because she’s thrown to the platform too,  _ hard, _ her teeth clacking together and lights flashing across her vision, and  _ ow ow ow _ she still has a headache from the  _ last _ time that happened. 

A part of her thinks she should just… stay here, because here is  _ safe, _ well safer, here she won’t be  _ hurting _ so much. But she knows, she knows,  _ we do what we must _ and  _ we break after _ and maybe she  _ can’t _ take any more pain but she  _ must, _ she must take it for her men. So she grits her teeth and shoves herself to her feet, even though everything’s spinning (and it takes her a moment to realize that’s not just because of the dizziness but also because the platform is  _ swaying _ beneath her boots). The artillery unit was mostly ash after Jak’s assault, but now he’s on  _ top _ of it, a vibroblade in one hand and his blaster in the other, utterly destroying what’s left.

Right. Signal. That’s her job.

“Bring them in,  _ now!” _

At the edge of the platform, she sees multiple fat-bellied transports jerking down (they don’t maneuver well at speed), hovering just over the quaking durasteel, and she nods to herself as Cody (she recognizes his armor) starts getting their forces onto the transports indiscriminatorily, not caring if they’re injured or blue or orange or another color altogether. It’s less a retreat, more a  _ route, _ but at least there’s some sort of order within the chaos and that’s good, that’s good. 

A blaster bolt flies so close to her head she feels it sear the very edge of her headtail, and she  _ flinches, _ spins (too fast, too much, everything  _ tilts _ and she almost loses her balance), and there’s a destroyer  _ right there _ and kriff, oh  _ kriff, _ and she doesn’t have any droid poppers or grenades but--

She  _ does _ have herself.

This is, a distant part of her thinks, probably the most reckless, most  _ jare’la _ thing she’s ever done in her life, but kark it. 

She takes a deep breath and shuts off her ‘sabers, leaves herself  _ completely open to attack, _ and Force-jumps  _ hard, _ focuses, because she  _ has _ to time this exactly right (and a blaster bolt hits somewhere in her bad shoulder and Kix is going to  _ murder her), _ and she  _ slams _ into the top of the destroyer’s shield with too much momentum to pass through, bounces off--but as she’s falling in front (and  _ stars _ it shoots her point-blank in the side and all she sees is  _ red) _ of the destroyer she slowly, casually, as though she has all the time in the world, slides one arm through the shield and ignites her ‘saber through the destroyer.

The shields fuzz and flicker out, and she crashes to the ground  _ hard, _ lies there panting, kriff, stars,  _ Force _ Anakin and Kix are going to be  _ so angry, _ but it  _ worked _ so kriff them.

But  _ ow. _ Ow, that  _ hurt. _

The anxiety, the  _ ice, _ it all tries to surge back up again, but  _ we do what we must, _ and she can’t, can’t give in, she has to--do this.

But her head is  _ spinning _ and the platform is tilting beneath her and she digs one ‘saber in, desperate to stay  _ semi _ balanced, and she pushes herself to her knees. Ow. That makes the burn on her side  _ throb _ and she chokes on a sharp inhale, coughs, presses her fingers into her saber hilts and hacks violently. The smoke is  _ too much. _

~~~

Rex has locked the pain in his throat well back in his mind and settled into a good rhythm of fighting. He can’t believe the strike team is  _ here _ , can’t believe the artillery unit is down and they’re going to make it, they’re going to be able to get  _ out _ . He has to fight through to the transports yet, but that feels  _ easy _ . He can’t seem to shake a fierce smile off his face, although the thrill in his bones has settled to more a hum of purpose.

Then he shoots down a rank of droids, stumbles as the whole platform  _ tilts _ , and he nearly staggers into  _ Ahsoka _ , on her knees, coughing, and he quickly scans her form, sees a new wound in her shoulder and one in her side. “Ahsoka?” he says quickly, hurrying around in front of her and crouching so he can offer her help up, letting his shields down with a sigh. “You okay,  _ cyare _ ?”

She looks up at him, eyes widening, and he takes that as permission to grab her arm, help her to her feet. The second she’s up, she switches her sabers off and flings her arms around his middle, pushes close, and  _ something is wrong _ . “Rex, oh Force,  _ Rex _ .”

“Soka?”

Her shields all go down, suddenly, so fast that the flood of her emotions confuses him for a second and he can’t process them, just gets a feeling of ice and pain and brokenness and he’s so  _ confused _ but he holds her close with one arm and shoots with the other. Slowly he starts picking out the pieces, the dream and how she wanted to  _ stay _ there and feeling numb, and then a memory, pushed at him  _ hard _ , of Dooku coming for her and Jak and of her just… standing, and Rex can’t help a too-late surge of anxiety because she isn’t moving, why isn’t she- He pushes that down, just watches the memory with deep concern rising in his throat, arm tightening around her.

“I was just going to let him kill us, Rex,” she says desperately, and she’s  _ crying _ , and Rex doesn’t know how he hadn’t  _ seen _ this - only he remembers her yanking away from his touch, stubbornly clinging to her dream, and he sighs. He should’ve been paying more attention, but it’s too late for that, so he just hangs onto her, gives Cody a hand signal to give him a moment. “I don’t know why, I don’t know what’s  _ wrong with me _ , Rex,” and he swallows, nods, rubs her shoulder with his un-gauntleted hand.

“Okay, I know, I’m sorry,  _ cyar’ika _ . We need to get out of here; can you walk with me?” Her icy numbness and pieces of memory and thought are still washing against his thoughts, and it takes some effort to manage those things, to not get pulled into an echo of that hopelessness.

She doesn’t really answer, and Rex needs to get her out of here, so he starts walking, keeps his arm around her but not so tight, projects the fire that’s burning in his veins. Cody strides over to them, tugging his helmet off, and Rex can tell he’s  _ deeply  _ worried. “We need to  _ go _ ,  _ ori’vod _ .”

“I  _ know that _ ,” Rex hisses, running his bloody hand over Ahsoka’s back headtail and nudging her to walk faster.  _ Hey, Soka, meshurok, come on. Let’s go _ . He holds tight to her shoulders, puts away his blasters because it’s clear enough and Cody is watching his back, threads his free hand through one of hers.

Brii is waiting for them by the transport, and Rex gives him a tight smile, thinks he’s going to have to thank Brii for a number of things. Ahsoka is holding onto his hand so tight it hurts, but that’s good because she’s  _ holding on _ . Rex pushes more of his own strength at her, because he has plenty to spare, and helps her step up on the transport, Cody behind him.

~~~

It’s not  _ uncommon _ for a  _ vod _ to just… shut down, after an intense battle or too many long campaigns in a row; Cody’s seen it before, too many times. Their eyes get vague, unfocused; they spend all their leave time and off-duty hours sequestered in the barracks, drifting. Sometimes it’s hard to see, at first, because they’ll smile and laugh right along with everyone else, but if you’re careful, if you’re observant, if you watch their eyes at the right times, you’ll see it, the way everything’s shuttered, closed off, a datapad screen turned off. They’ll fight alongside you, for a day or a week or a month, and then one day you’ll be kitting up and they’ll have a strange  _ light _ in their eyes, a sort of  _ resolve, _ and that’s when you know you’ll find them with a neat hole in their helmet on the next battlefield. 

Sometimes you can catch it, can catch  _ them, _ can restrain a  _ vod _ until he’s thinking more clearly, but he’s learned, over the years, that by the time they try it once they’re too far gone. You can’t save them, can’t  _ stop _ them when they’re truly set on it. 

He’s seen it so many times, over the course of this war, and he hates it  _ every time. _

But he’d never expected to see that same look in Commander Tano’s eyes.

It’s been there, a little, off and on, ever since the Chancellor and the Senate, though he’s not really been in much of a place to  _ judge _ her for it, given his own reaction to the events of that day. He’s been  _ watching _ her since then, since the day he first noticed it, because he doesn’t know how to bring it up to his  _ ori’vod, _ certainly doesn’t know how to  _ fix it, _ but he’s sure as hell not going to let Rex’s  _ cyar’ika _ kill herself in a battle, not without a fight. But then two months had gone by, there was no sign of her even  _ considering _ trying it, and he’d started to relax, let his guard down a little.

Before they’d made planetfall on Mustafar, when he’d woken Rex and the Commander up, he’d seen that  _ look _ in her eyes, though, and it’d been a shock to his system, like being doused in ice water. She’d looked  _ lost, _ and worse than that,  _ numb. _

It’s always then, when they go numb, that it happens. They get  _ tired. _ And then, and then… and then it’s too late, because they don’t care enough to  _ survive. _

And it’d felt like the ground had dropped out from underneath him, because he’d  _ failed _ in this self-assigned mission, and both he and Rex had been separated from her during this battle, and he’d  _ known. _ He’d  _ known _ if anything was going to happen… it would happen here, now. The only reason Cody even agreed to let her out of his sight (because he’s  _ not letting her do it) _ was because he knew his General and General Skywalker and Kix would be there, and his General and Kix would  _ know, _ they’d see it in time.

So it’s a mixture of relief and trepidation that floods him when he sees her and Jak Ordo take out the heavy artillery, sees her  _ fighting _ like she always has. Good, he thinks, that’s  _ good. _ She’s awake, it seems,  _ feeling _ things, focusing--

Only she’s not really, he notes, in between shooting clankers with his usual calm precision. Because she’s caught unawares and nearly shot in the head, and that is  _ not good, _ and so Cody starts towards her. He’ll just watch her six for her, until his  _ ori’vod _ can get to her. Just to make sure she’s safe. Rex has already endured enough loss, he shouldn’t have to lose  _ her _ too.

And then Commander Tano catches sight of a destroyer and he notices she doesn’t have any grenades, any droid poppers; he has a couple left, and so he picks up a jog, shoots clankers on autopilot as he makes his way to her, because they really  _ do _ need to get these destroyers down--

Before he can get to her, though, she  _ jumps, _ and he  _ swears _ because what the kriff, Commander, that is the single-riskiest way to take out a destroyer known to mankind. She’s got her ‘sabers off and he pushes himself faster, sees a commando taking aim at her and he fires, one-two-three-four, rapidly, takes the commando down--though not before it gets off a bolt that impacts her  _ bad _ shoulder, of course. Kriff.

Commander Tano hits the destroyer’s shields  _ hard, _ slides down the front, and he  _ watches _ the kriffing droid shoot her point-blank before she ignites her lightsaber through it, and if she was kriffing Obi-Wan he’d yell her  _ ear off _ (montrals off?) after this is over. What the  _ kriff _ is it with Jedi and their  _ jarose? _

He sees his  _ ori’vod _ crouch down in front of her, get her up on her feet, which is good, but she’s injured and he’s not sure she isn’t going to pull away and throw herself in the middle of another clump of droids, take them all out and let them put a blaster bolt between her eyes while she’s at it, so he pulls his bucket off and clips it to his belt and strides over, quickly. “We need to  _ go, ori’vod,” _ he says sharply, sharper than he  _ means, _ really, but Rex needs to get her  _ out of here _ before she tries anything else that will get her killed. 

“I  _ know that,” _ Rex snaps back, and Cody thinks maybe his  _ ori’vod _ is finally starting to  _ see, _ to understand. Finally. He gets the Commander moving, thankfully, and over to one of the transports--it’s a perilous walk, really, because the stabilizers are losing power even more rapidly now and soon enough this entire facility will cease to exist. So they’ve got to get out of here. Cody grits his teeth, stiffens his spine into steel, tries not to glance over at his General (who should  _ not _ be fighting), fails and looks over anyway.

Obi-Wan catches his eyes, offers a lopsided smile and a series of hand signals that equate to, roughly,  _ get the battalions out, Skywalker and I will hold the droids. _ Which is kriffing  _ ridiculous, _ and he jerks his hand to the side in the universally-understood gesture for  _ not on your kriffing life, _ raises his eyebrows. Like he’s kriffing letting his General stay down here  _ alone. _

What was it he’d been thinking about Jedi Generals and their  _ jarose? _

Obi-Wan just  _ looks _ at him, and Cody grinds his teeth together so hard he can  _ hear _ it over the sounds of battle, inhales so sharply he thinks his lungs will burst, and snarls out, very quietly, very  _ irate, _ “Kriffing  _ fine!” _

“Uh, Commander?” the Domino kid, Brii Cody thinks, asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

_ “Jetiise,” _ Cody snaps, by way of explanation. He curls his fists, tries to restrain himself from just stunning his kriffing  _ di’kut _ of a General and dragging the  _ not actually immortal _ man back to the  _ Negotiator _ himself. It takes perhaps more self-control than he really  _ has _ right now (this has been a  _ trying experience, _ what with Rex kriffing taking on a kriffing Sith Lord by himself and the Jedi apparently trying to  _ kill everyone _ by blowing out the power supply and his General trying to  _ give him a kriffing heart attack), _ but he manages it, breathes very forcefully in and out through his nose and tries not to shoot someone. Or punch someone. Preferably either Rex or Kenobi. “Rex,” he growls, “we are  _ discussing _ your behavior  _ at length _ after this shit is cleaned up.”

The Domino kid, Brii, frowns. “Wait, why? That was  _ so cool, _ I’m gonna draw it when we get back to the  _ Resolute, _ he just  _ boom! _ charged kriffing  _ Savage Opress _ and stabbed him in the kriffing  _ throat--” _

Cody turns a Glare on the kid, one of his Kenobi-glares, usually reserved for his General at his most-smartass or most-idiot or most-insufferable.  _ “Don’t. Encourage. Him,” _ he says, enunciating every word sharply, clipping the words short.

Brii not-so-subtly rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath.

Cody decides he doesn’t  _ want to know. _

He adjusts his wristcomm to Kenobi’s frequency, snaps out, “I’m leaving a transport to kriffing save your asses when you almost get yourselves killed, clear?”

_ “I’d expect nothing less, Cody,” _ Kenobi says, and  _ oh _ Cody is going to Have Words with his General later. Insufferable Jedi. Absolutely  _ zero _ sense of self-preservation.

The transports start lifting off, and the last of his men are loading up, and so Cody sighs and climbs onto the transport next to Rex and Commander Tano and Brii, shouts for the pilot to take them up.

If Kenobi gets himself killed, he’s going to kriffing  _ murder him. _

(That’s not as funny as it used to be.)

~~~

Rex winks at Brii when Cody isn't looking, because things have gotten  _ significantly _ worse but he can't help the pride and triumph still humming muted in his chest. Although now he  _ hurts _ , his throat burning and the wound in his stomach screaming and he shouldn't have been fighting but that can't be helped.

Ahsoka does  _ not _ feel good, so Rex keeps up a steady projection of strength, of power, of understanding and love, meanwhile trying to figure out what's happened, how he's missed it. He doesn't think she notices him sifting through her thoughts, doesn't think she notices much of anything, really, and  _ gods _ that's terrifying.

He can't figure out  _ why _ she feels like this, maybe because she doesn't know - part of it seems to be some idea that the war won't end, none of this will, and Rex knows too well how that feels. He frowns, pulls the thought to the forefront of her mind as gently as he can.

_ I understand thinking it won't end, Soka _ .

She flinches a little, and he tightens his arm around her.  _ I don't know why I'm- I'm so scared, Rex, I don't know what's  _ **_wrong_ ** _. _

_ I know, I understand. You're okay, mesh’la cyare _ .

_ Don't _ , she says, and Rex hums and turns to kiss her montrals, feels she wishes he wouldn't.

_ We can figure it out, ner’jetii. It's gonna be okay _ . Rex wonders if he should tell her about panicking, about wanting it all to stop hurting, about seeing Fives and almost leaving and Brii.

And he should. He will. But he doesn't think she can handle that now; right now he thinks he should just  _ be here _ . Hold her.

“We saved Echo,” he tells her. “He's not in great shape, but I think… I hope we can help him.”

Brii, hanging onto the transport with one hand, rubs the back of his neck with the other. Rex realizes, abruptly, that there’s a hole in his  _ vod’s _ leg, a blaster wound. “He thinks you’re Fives, sir,” he says, and Rex closes his eyes for a second.

“I know. I’m going to… I’m going to ask Kix how to tell him. When he’s stable.” Rex doesn’t have his helmet now anyway, it’s destroyed (and after all his improvements to it, too, damn it), so Echo won’t think he’s Fives anymore. Which means they’ll have to explain.

The transport is mostly quiet, and Rex thinks they’re all still trying to process the fact that they’re  _ okay _ , that they’re getting out after all. He knows he is - he feels slightly overwhelmed at everything that’s  _ happened _ , the suddenness of it, plus the utter  _ turmoil _ Ahsoka is feeling. He’s sure there will be a lot of debriefing, a lot of talking over the next few days. They have freed  prisoners and slaves to get to safety and make sure are treated well, they have to figure out what their alliance with Bo-Katan means now that Maul is apparently dead, they have to begin the process of dealing with the Separatists now that their forces are leaderless, and Rex needs to figure out what’s happened with Ahsoka, what’s happened with  _ himself _ \- there is so  _ much _ here.

But he will worry later. For now he’ll comfort Ahsoka and take quiet pride in their victory and not  _ talk _ since his throat kriffing  _ hurts _ . Even if he’s afraid for her and unsure what will happen to his  _ vod’e _ , now is the time to hold his  _ cyare _ and be still and have some tiny measure of peace while he can. He’ll have time for worry and fighting later.

~~~

Anakin thinks he has  _ probably _ made more sound tactical decisions than sending off  _ all _ his backup (except a wounded, exhausted Jedi Master) and facing down an  _ entire droid army _ on a landing platform that’s about to collapse into the lava it’s floating on. 

Oops.

The thing is, tactically,  _ someone _ has to do it,  _ someone _ has to keep the clankers from shooting down the transports before they can get away; also tactically, it might as well be the two Jedi who are most likely to be able to actually  _ survive. _

“Cody is going to have a transport hang back to pull us out,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin nods. That’s good.

“If we can lure the clankers onto the platform and accelerate its collapse, we could take out a bunch of them at once,” Anakin hazards, trying to come up with an _actual,_ _sound strategy_ that isn’t _wing it and almost get killed._ He really does _not_ want to end up in the lava here and kriffing lose the _rest_ of his limbs.

“Oh, stellar plan, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, and Anakin thinks his Master is severely sleep-deprived--he’s never  _ outwardly _ this sarcastic, otherwise. “We can take ourselves out with them.”

Anakin shrugs, smirks a little. “Hey, at least then I don’t have to try and explain to Kix and Scratch why I let you stay with me.” He sighs, then, drops the smirk. “You know it’s the best plan we have.”

Obi-Wan grits his teeth, but nods. “It’s risky.”

Anakin snorts. “When  _ isn’t _ it?” Which isn’t the point, but it’s true enough, and will hopefully help Obi-Wan feel a little better about all this.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even really  _ glare, _ just looks… almost sad. “You realize you’re talking about your  _ life, _ Anakin?”

Anakin sobers abruptly, because oh  _ great, now _ is really not the time for this. “Snips did it on Kamino,” he says quietly, half-shrugs. “Anything she can do, I can do better.”

_ “Anakin,” _ and oops, that’s the  _ tone. _ “I am being  _ serious, _ here.”

He shrugs. “So am I, Master. I don’t have to  _ think _ about this, okay? I’ve known for a long time I’d make the trade in a heartbeat.”

“What about Padmè?”

_ Ouch, _ low blow. “What about  _ Satine?” _ he retaliates, sees Obi-Wan wince and look away. “Come on, Master, why don’t we focus on how we’re going to  _ survive _ instead of trying to argue each other out of dying?” Honestly.

The droids are advancing again, rocket launchers aimed at the transports, and Anakin decides he doesn’t need to wait for his Master’s response; he lunges forward, starts whirling through clankers. The stupid kriffing ash in the air is wreaking  _ havoc _ on the circuits in his arm and leg, and that’s going to be a  _ problem _ later, but for now he can deal with it. 

The platform creaks and groans and  _ tilts _ again, and Anakin  _ swears, _ almost falls, and kriff they need to get  _ out of here _ as soon as they can. “Hurry up, come on,” he mutters, tears through another squadron of droids, glances over his shoulder at the transports. They’re still too close, the rocket launchers could  _ easily _ reach them, and so they have to stay. They have to keep fighting. 

At least Anakin knows he can handle it, unlike the troopers--his men are exhausted and worn to the bone, and Snips is… not good, he’s not sure what exactly is wrong but he’d seen some things, during the fight with Dooku and Maul, and… well, and if  _ Jak _ was reassuring her, helping her keep going, then he’s afraid of what the problem is. (Afraid he already  _ knows.) _

But he thinks he’s probably in the best shape out of all of them; he would’ve preferred to have like, Kix down here, because Obi-Wan  _ really _ should be back in the medbay, but Kix isn’t here and there’s no  _ time _ and so he focuses on the feel of his ‘saber humming in his hands, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting through droids. Doesn’t let himself worry about his Master, because if he  _ starts _ he’s not sure he can  _ stop. _

~~~

Obi-Wan just wants to  _ rest _ . He feels like he’s been coming closer and closer to collapse every time they’ve fought, and there’s so  _ much _ circling in his head right now, Maul’s eyes and his head hitting the floor and the worrisome state Ahsoka’s in and Jak and almost losing his whole battalion. The Force is the only thing keeping him steady, he thinks, that and the fact that his troops and Anakin need him.

And of course, then there’s the small matter of every breath he takes being painful. A rather unfortunate problem, since the smoke and ash in the air make it hard to breathe already.

The platform is groaning near-constantly now, and Obi-Wan wishes, as he often does, that he could come up with a better plan than the one Anakin’s proposed. But he can’t, so he stands with Anakin near the edge of the platform and lets Anakin do most of the more… acrobatic maneuvering, sticks to a more defensive pattern, deflects things Anakin doesn’t notice. The Force is energy and balance and steel in his bones, enough that he can pretend (as he often does) that he is not tired, is not hurting, is not desperate to get away from here and meditate and try to let this all go.

Durasteel screeches again, and the platform lists so sharply that Obi-Wan slips, draws sharp on the Force to keep from falling, and Anakin skids back over to him, half running, half sliding, gives him a smile, and Obi sighs. Why does Anakin have to get him into these messes so often?

And then another row of destroyers rolls out onto the platform and clearly that is too much for the platform’s stabilizers, because with another groan like something alive, the platform tilts one more time and the stabilizers sputter out the last of their power and the platform seems to hang in the air for a long, long moment.

Then Anakin swears, and the platform  _ plummets _ .

“I hope you know what we’re doing next!” Obi says, automatically reaching out with the Force to stay  _ on _ the platform, at least, his stomach trying to violently escape his throat.

“Absolutely!” Anakin says.

Anakin doesn’t know. Which doesn’t surprise Obi-Wan in the slightest.

He switches off his saber, clips it to his belt, gathers himself and pulls on the Force, starts looking for a solution-

“There, Master! We need to jump!”

Oh, of  _ course _ they do. Obi-Wan follows Anakin’s gesture to several floating pieces of scrap, then follows Anakin’s lead in a long Force-augmented leap from the platform (and honestly why this sort of thing every time, it’s like Anakin’s cursed with risky plans and terrible options). For a moment it’s just stale heat and ashes and falling and then his feet hit durasteel and he clings  _ hard _ to the Force as pain flares in his chest, commands it to keep him  _ balanced _ . The metal is so hot he can feel it through his boots, and, “This is hardly a long-term solution, Anakin.”

“Trust me, Master,” Anakin says, and Obi does, of course - he just also really wants to not be standing on a sinking piece of molten scrap. “We have to jump again.”

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan says tiredly, sees an outcropping of smooth, rippled lava rock some distance away - it would be a push, but it’s within reach, and there’s no time to think about it, so “There, Anakin,” and he gathers himself again, pushes into the Force (although it’s beginning to resist him a little), and jumps, tenses himself for the landing because it is going to  _ hurt _ .

And it does, and he does, although he tucks himself into a neat roll and tries  _ very _ hard to stifle the pain but his chest wound  _ may _ have opened up a little after all this. Which Scratch is going to just  _ love _ , but as Obi-Wan sees the platform crash into the lava, sending up spouts of fire, he decides he’d rather die by Scratch murdering him than by being engulfed in lava.

With that thought, the Force pulls away from him except for a humming kind of calm, and his legs decide to give out too. He collapses onto the stone, catches himself and manages to just sit, like he  _ meant _ to do that. Which he did not. He’s  _ tired _ .

~~~

Anakin lands lightly on the rock, or at least that was the  _ plan. _ The way it  _ should’ve _ gone.

Instead, his stupid kriffing mech leg decides to give out, the circuits protesting the abuse, because he’d certainly not designed them for jumping ten stories and landing on metal floating in an ocean of lava.

Oops, again. He probably should’ve thought of that. Honestly, with how often he finds himself in these sort of situations… really, it should’ve occurred to him that he might end up on a lava planet. Right? Right.

And of course, because the mech leg gives out, he’s forced to either let his  _ other _ leg buckle, or awkwardly do the splits and possibly topple into said lava ocean, so he takes the first (safer, semi-dignified) option and crashes onto the rock next to Obi-Wan, swearing profusely.  _ Honestly. _

Obi-Wan does  _ not  _ look very good, and he thinks possibly this was not the greatest idea--maybe they should’ve just gotten on the transports to begin with and hoped the droids didn’t try to shoot them down. (Yeah, right, like that would’ve happened.) “You okay, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s face is almost grey, but he still rolls his eyes hard enough Anakin thinks his eyes should probably pop out of his face. “Oh, yes, Anakin, I’m  _ fabulous.” _

Well, in case he needed any confirmation about the whole sleep-deprivation thing,  _ here it is. _

Anakin swears again, growls out a few uncomplimentary phrases in Huttese, and stabs his fingers aggressively at his mech leg. Which really accomplishes nothing but making his fingers  _ hurt, _ because holy kriffing shits, the metal is  _ hot. _ And it  _ burns. _ And  _ ow ow ow. _ Lava, right, lava planet, he is never ever coming back to this Force-forsaken hellhole  _ ever again. _

“Maybe you should  _ avoid _ touching the superheated metal?” Obi-Wan says dryly, raises an eyebrow, and  _ why. _ Why  _ him. _ Why is he cursed with the worst, most sarcastic, most awful, most smartass,  _ least helpful _ Master in the entire Order? “Oh, hush,” he adds, “or at least shield better. You could be stuck here with Master Windu, or Master Yoda.”

Anakin  _ shudders. _ Force preserve his soul if that ever happened. Yoda would probably be  _ laughing gleefully _ and clinging to his shoulders and generally being a useless  _ child _ dangling around his neck. Windu at least would do something  _ helpful, _ ish, even if there was a lot of glaring and grumbling and irritating comments involved. “Okay, whatever, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have to  _ touch my leg to fix it, _ and I can’t go anywhere if I don’t fix it,” he snaps, considers trying to touch his leg again, decides against it. This would be a  _ great _ way to have to get a second mech hand.  _ Burned only remaining flesh hand off while trying to fix stubborn mech leg on a lava planet. _ The men would  _ never _ let him live it down. “At least my plan worked?” he offers.

Obi-Wan  _ glares. _ “If your goal was to get us stranded on a rock in the middle of a river of lava, then yes, it  _ worked _ quite nicely,” and  _ really, _ he doesn’t have to sound so kriffing  _ huffy. _

“I didn’t see you coming up with any genius ideas,” Anakin grumbles. “At least I saved our skins  _ and _ killed the droids.” Seriously. What is  _ with _ Obi-Wan today? Night. Whatever it is.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, probably to deliver some scathing remark, but before he can say anything he’s cut off by a transport dropping down within about ten meters. Cody is standing on the edge,  _ glaring, _ and Anakin gulps. Not that he’s  _ afraid _ of Cody,  _ never, _ Cody’s just--intimidating. That’s all. “It’s not my fault!” he yelps, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Obi-Wan  _ groans. _ “Anakin,” he says patiently,  _ “everything _ about this current situation is your fault.”

“From a  _ certain point of view!” _

The  _ look _ his Master shoots him could probably burn through blast doors faster than a lightsaber.

Anakin snaps his mouth shut, swallows, rubs at the back of his neck. The pattern of this rock is suddenly quite interesting, he thinks. “Um. My mech leg is shot,” he admits sheepishly, does  _ not _ look up at Cody. “So I can’t actually stand up. Or do anything.”

“We can only get the transport so much lower, sir,” a helmeted trooper in 212th orange says, and Anakin sighs and swears again. Of-kriffing-course.

“I am  _ not _ touching it again,” he grumbles, glares sulkily at the offending appendage. “It burned my  _ hand.” _

“You don’t say,” Cody says dryly.

Kriff him.

The transport drops about half the distance, and Anakin thinks if he could just  _ stand up _ he could easily jump up in there, but… “Also,” he adds, “I don’t think Obi-Wan  _ can _ stand.”

“I can too!”

“You collapsed,” he says, rolls his eyes. “So shut up.”

“I  _ hate _ to interrupt,” Cody snaps out in a tone that says the exact opposite of his words, “but,” and he glances quickly over his shoulder, lowers his voice a little, “sirs, I’d like to get Commander Tano back to the  _ Resolute _ before she tries something like throwing herself out the ship.”’

And  _ that _ puts a damper on things very kriffing quickly. “The  _ kriff, _ Cody?”

~~~

Cody refuses to say much else, but Obi-Wan doesn't need him to; he eases calm into Anakin's thoughts and waits for Cody to jump out of the transport and help him up and then far more clumsily than he'd have liked into the ship. He  _ tries _ to get up but it doesn't work so he sighs and settles for leaning against the wall of the ship, eyeing its occupants appraisingly as Cody helps Anakin onto the transport.

Ahsoka looks pale and confused and scared, holding on tight to Rex (that, Obi-Wan thinks wearily, is part of the problem), and he can feel her distress in the ambient Force. Rex is helmetless, speckled with blood, of all things, and visibly concerned. And Cody, jumping back into the transport as Anakin slides down against the wall with Obi, is definitely furious.

Oh well. Obi-Wan tried his best, he really did, and it's not his fault he almost died.

As they lift away from the planet's surface, heading back toward the  _ Resolute _ and clean air and sleep and cool corridors, Obi-Wan lets his head fall lightly back against the wall of the ship, nothing but relieved to get off this planet. The Force hums relief too, and peace, and he sinks into the warmth of it, the Light. Meditation, almost.

He stays there until the transport sets down in the  _ Resolute's  _ hangar with a  _ very painful _ jolt, then he eases out of the flow of the Force and tries to stand again, and fails again. Which means Cody has to come over and help him up, half-drag him and his uncooperative legs off the transport. He should try to talk to Ahsoka, but perhaps now is not the most ideal time.

One of the 501st troopers is supporting Anakin, who is grumbling about “kriffing circuits,” occasionally insisting that he is  _ fine _ . Ah, Anakin. Obi-Wan focuses on trying to get back to walking, on at least not grimacing in pain.

The troops are all filing neatly where they need to be, many to the barracks and just as many to the medbay. They get out of the way for Cody and Obi-Wan and Anakin, which Obi thinks briefly isn't fair, why should he get to go to the medbay first?

But then Ahsoka definitely needs the med bay, and Rex with those bruises around his throat and all that blood, whatever that's all from. And he supposes his chest wound is giving him more pain than it has in some weeks, so the medbay sounds like a very good idea.

The medbay is a flurry of activity, half the room sectioned off hastily with makeshift walls, although Obi-Wan isn't sure why. Kix hurries over to them, clearly already elbow-deep in work again, in healing and fixing and repairing.

“What do we have?” he says, glancing over all of them quickly. His eyes linger on Ahsoka, and Obi senses the Force singing against Kix’s skin as freely as it always seems to. He really has to ask Kix what he did to get the Force to like him so much.

“I've got a quieter area there, that's what the walls are for,” he says calmly. “Rex, if you get you and the Commander over there and find a bunk, I can look at both of you in a minute.”

Rex nods, tugs Ahsoka with him gently, and Obi-Wan is really going to have to talk to them both.

“She doesn't feel good,” Kix says, and Cody nods.

“We have to watch her.”

Kix shakes his head, and Obi-Wan can tell he's exhausted. “Right, okay. What happened to them this time?”

“Ahsoka got shot by a destroyer and some other droids,” Cody says dryly. “Rex decided to get strangled by Savage Opress. I've had a long day, Kix.” Obi-Wan is going to have to ask Cody exactly what that means.

“Force,” Kix sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'll get them patched up the best I can, General.”

“Thanks, Kix.”

“And for kriff's sake, you and Brii and the rest of you,  _ sit down _ and let my medics look at you.” Kix doesn't even seem to have the energy to be irritated, which Obi-Wan believes is unusual for him. So he lets Cody walk him over to a bunk and sit him down, his Commander sinking into a plastoid chair himself.

Obi-Wan is  _ worn out _ , but the battle is over.

Maul is dead, and Dooku and… and he supposes probably Savage, too. They've salvaged their battalions, saved Echo. He lets himself sigh a little in relief. It's done. They did it. Overall, despite the  _ losses _ , it's a victory. One that will change the tide of the war and perhaps finally draw it to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _evaar'la:_ young
> 
>  _kad:_ saber
> 
>  _dikut'la:_ useless, stupid, worthless
> 
>  _cetar:_ kneel in submission
> 
>  _tor:_ justice
> 
>  _gra'tua:_ vengeance
> 
>  _ijaat:_ honor
> 
>  _mhi shekemir:_ we follow
> 
>  _haat, ijaa, haa'it:_ truth, honor, vision (traditionally said to seal a pact)
> 
>  _ad'ika:_ little one
> 
>  _gar cuyan:_ (roughly) you're a survivor
> 
>  _meshurok:_ gem
> 
>  _jare'la:_ stupidly oblivious of danger, reckless, asking for it
> 
>  _jaro(se):_ death wish(es), insane act(s) of reckless stupidity


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, so this monstrosity is finally done! thanks to everyone who's stuck with us through this massive, intense thing. we really enjoyed writing it for you! 
> 
> there are two more fics planned: _these battle scars (don't look like they're fading)_ , which is going to be dealing with the recovery from Mustafar and will have a veryyyyy fluffy ending/epilogue to it; and _a lover not a fighter (on the front line with a poem)_ , which is going to be a long oneshot that focuses on Kix and Ca'tra (we're calling it "kixtra" now, you'll see why when you read this chapter, lol). we also have two more chapters of _at war with love_ to write, one post-Senate battle, one post-Mustafar, so this series isn't over yet, just fast approaching the end.
> 
> if you enjoyed, please leave us a comment! we'd love to hear back from you all.

The walls had been Sniper’s idea, and a kriffing good idea at that.

After all, with quite a few POWs (who flinch at any sudden movement), and  _ Echo, _ who is a whole other class, not to mention  _ Ca’tra, _ the typical controlled chaos of the medbay right after a nasty campaign would be…  _ too much. _ Kix thinks it would be too much for Ahsoka too, given what he can feel from her right now--but he can’t worry about her yet.

He focuses on General Skywalker’s burnt hand, wrapping it in bacta and then bandaging it tightly (ignoring the way the General swears and grumbles at him about being  _ fine, _ ha, right). “Get him to a bunk, get his prosthetic off, make sure he didn’t burn off what’s  _ left _ of his leg,” Kix tells another one of the junior medics, Adenn. “Sniper, start working on Kenobi, check on his chest wound, make sure he didn’t reopen it.”

A few more strings of orders, and he’s free to cut through the partitions to where Rex is sitting on a bunk, upper body armor off (good choice), the Commander curled tight against his side. Other than the bruises already standing out in stark relief against Rex’s neck, the Captain at least looks to be mostly uninjured--despite the dried blood all over his face; Ahsoka on the other hand he  _ knows _ isn’t okay. Still, he stops by the bunk anyway, says, “What are we looking at?”

“She’s been shot in the shoulder and her side,” Rex says--and Ahsoka doesn’t even look up, just stays tucked under Rex’s arm. There’s a worrying mix of pain and fear and self-loathing and guilt and  _ numbness _ spilling from her, and Kix thinks of the look on Cody’s face when he’d said  _ we need to watch her _ and he thinks he understands. 

Kix nods, says, “I need to look at your shoulder and side, Commander. Is that okay?”

She doesn’t respond--doesn’t really even seem  _ aware-- _ and he swears. Kriff. “Come on, Captain, kriffing help me out here.”

~~~

Rex nods (because he's regretting the decision to ever talk again today) and nudges Ahsoka’s thoughts, stubbornly.  _ I need you to sit up and let Kix look at you, Ahsoka. _

There's more a pained reluctance from her than a refusal, and Rex pushes harder because he's not budging on this.  _ Soka, come on. Now. _ He's gentle, but projects the impression that he isn't letting her argue.

She feels dead exhausted as she eases away from him enough that Kix can get to her, and Rex pulls his arm from around her and takes her hand instead. Kix glances briefly at Rex, eyes worried, then starts evaluating her newly-injured shoulder, gauze and antiseptic in hand, cleaning.

Rex can feel twinges of pain from her - and she doesn't  _ care _ . And he remembers this, a little - Kadavo, cleaning shrapnel out of her hands, and her barely responding to any of it. That scares him more now than it had then, because now he has space to worry, and doesn't totally understand  _ why _ . Kix shakes his head at her shoulder with an air of someone determining to worry about it later and starts cutting fabric away from the wound in Soka’s side, which even Rex can tell is much worse than her shoulder.

“Rex, I don't really want you talking, but,” Kix shrugs wearily, “what happened to your neck and is there anything else I have to look at? I'm hearing a lot of buzz and not a lot of answers.”

Rex swallows (and  _ ow _ ), lifts one shoulder. “I have a blaster graze on my leg,” he says, pointing to his left leg. “The throat, um… I got strangled by Savage Opress. Started blacking out a little. But I killed him, so.” He shrugs again.

“I don't care if you killed a  _ dozen _ Sith,” Kix says sharply, amd Rex almost believes him. “ _ Haar’chak _ , Rex, and then you decided to fight more, didn't you.”

“No?”

“Kriffing  _ liar _ .” Kix closes his eyes for a second and then goes back to gently cleaning Ahsoka’s wound. “You have to stop doing things like that.”

Rex manages a twitch of a smile. “I don't see that happening, Kix. Although personally I'd  _ love _ to stop almost dying.”

Kix just sighs, and Rex realizes his friend isn't really in the mood for this, so he goes quiet, just focuses on projecting love at Ahsoka and shielding his worry. (And if he's taking a little of her pain, too, who's going to stop him? Apparently not her. Still more concerning.)

He's ready for a pause in the fighting, is sure they'll get one with how diminished their forces are. They need  _ time _ , he needs to figure out what's  _ happened _ while he wasn't paying attention. He tries not to be too frustrated at himself for failing to notice this earlier, although it's hard. He sees now, whatever that's worth, and that will  _ have _ to be enough.

~~~

Ca’tra opens her eyes to darkness.

There’s a dim crimson glow in one corner of her vision, and she frowns, strains to make out where she  _ is,  _ even as she already  _ knows, _ deep in her bones.

No. No, no, no.

It’s instinct to even her breathing, slow and steady, like she hasn’t woken up; she forces herself to close her eyes, hold exactly, perfectly still save for the rhythmic up-and-down of her chest. Maybe, if she’s still enough, he won’t notice. Maybe--

“You thought you could run?” a voice murmurs, silken-soft and sharp-edged, like velvet and steel. “You thought you could escape.”

_ No! _

There’s  _ movement, _ she senses it, and her eyes snap open--she tries to sit up, to do  _ something, _ anything, but there’s something holding her in place. She  _ can’t move. _

“Why would you want to run, my dear child?” She still can’t  _ see, _ and his voice is echoing around her, around and around and around, and then a hand brushes against her hair and she  _ jerks, _ tries to pull away, but she’s held still and she can’t move her head far enough to get away from the hand and  _ no, please no, not this, not him. _ “I have given you  _ everything, _ Ca’tra. I have kept you safe for so many years, I have taught you everything I know, and this is how you repay me?”

_Safe? That’s what you call it?_ She holds perfectly still beneath his hand, tries to steady her breathing, but it’s ragged and sharp and shallow and she can’t control herself, can’t stop the trembling in every muscle, can’t _do it._ _You never protected me,_ she wants to scream, _you never tried, all you did is hurt and hurt and hurt, you gave me nothing but_ ** _pain!_**

The Master sighs, sounds regretful. “Alas, I fear I have no choice but to discipline you harshly for this. The galaxy is not  _ safe _ for you.” His hand vanishes and she  _ can’t breathe _ because him  _ touching her _ was bad but at least she knew where he was then, now she knows  _ nothing, _ can’t anticipate, can’t prepare herself. 

_ No, please no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _ and she’s  _ shaking _ and she’s trapped here and she’s not sure how she got back (maybe it was all a dream, Elle and Kix and the  _ jetiise) _ but she’s here and no, no, no! She can’t  _ do this, _ please, she doesn’t want to do it anymore, it  _ hurts _ and no. No, no, no.

Some instinct she can’t stifle grabs onto the Force,  _ hard, _ reaches desperately for  _ safety, _ for help, for warmth,  _ please please please, _ he’ll use the lightning and he hates it when she screams but it always  _ hurts _ so much and she doesn’t want it, she can’t do this, so  _ please help, please, please. _

~~~

Kix has just settled into his incredibly uncomfortable metal chair for the night - since he doesn’t trust anyone else watching his sensitive patients, he’s put himself on almost guard duty - when amongst all the waves of fear and exhaustion and pain and  _ Force, this is a lot _ , he feels an impression almost like somebody shouting for help, for  _ him _ even, and as he pushes himself automatically to his feet, someone’s mind latches onto his,  _ hard _ . It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but Kix doesn’t shield like he should because he recognizes something about it and he realizes, after a second, that it’s  _ Ca’tra _ . He gets flashes of images, of terror and Dooku’s face and voice, and Kix isn’t sure if they’re memories or a nightmare but Ca’tra’s  _ talking _ in his head, like an echo of real speech, quiet,  _ please help me, please, please, I can’t do this, please _ and Kix hurries over to her bunk, finds her curled up so tight it has to hurt, hands over her ears.

Kix knows nightmares, so he sits down on the edge of her bunk and starts talking, doesn’t touch her, asks the Force for  _ calm _ and pushes peace into the ambient Force. He’s a little afraid to try doing anything in her mind directly, because she isn’t awake and she probably didn’t mean to grab onto him like this, so he just tries to talk out loud like he would with his  _ vod’e _ and keeps up a small projection of comfort.

“Ca’tra, hey, you’re safe. Can you wake up? It’s okay, it’s just me, and we’re in the med bay.” There’s Darkness shrieking electric around the edges of her thoughts and Kix reaches for the Force again.

_ I just need that to go away, _ he says, meaning the Dark, and the Force rumbles agreement (it’s getting a lot easier to convince the Force to do things, much to Kix’s delight) and Kix feels everything grow Lighter, easier, even calmer. “Come on,  _ burc’ya _ , you’re okay.” He can feel her terror dissipate a little, the images disappearing, but she doesn’t let go of his mind. He thinks she might be aware enough now that it’s safe to reach out, touch her shoulder lightly (and without totally meaning to he nudges her thoughts a little). She flinches a little, but pulls her hands away from her ears and opens her eyes, and  _ Force  _ she still looks and feels so  _ scared _ .

“Hey,” he says, pulling his hand back so she has space, keeping a blanket of Light eased over her bunk because it’s easier than he’d anticipated and she probably needs it. “You’re in my medbay, Ca’tra, you’re okay.”

~~~

The only reason Ca’tra doesn’t make some kind of incriminating, probably embarrassing noise is years of conditioning (silence is safety). She’s jerked awake by the strangest sensation: the darkness of the room, of the Master, bleeds away, and in its place there’s--soft, bright warmth, peace and tranquility and calm, and she freezes instinctively, eyes snapping open and hands dropping from her ears (as though that would keep the Master’s voice away), trying to catalogue her surroundings.

She doesn’t recognize this place.

Doesn’t recognize this…  _ warmth, _ either, except a very faint part of her hums  _ Light _ and that doesn’t make  _ sense, _ she’s not and will never be a  _ jetii, _ she is too Dark, too Sith. She tries to force her breathing into something vaguely resembling steady, though it’s almost a futile attempt, holds herself utterly still, frozen, clings to the only familiar thing she can feel. 

There’s a voice.

“Hey. You’re in my medbay, Ca’tra, you’re okay,” and that sounds familiar, and the voice knows her  _ name, _ which must mean she knows the voice--the voice feels like the--

Oh.

The  _ familiar, _ the safety, is another mind against hers, a Force-signature she knows, and she realizes slowly she’s clutching the mind close, desperate,  _ without permission, _ and--and that’s something the Master would do, she can’t. But she can’t quite  _ let go, _ because she’s not sure which is the dream and which is reality and the room--the medbay?--is  _ dark _ and she can’t, can’t, needs to breathe. Needs to stay calm. Don’t think.

Kix, it’s Kix, sitting on the edge of her bunk, talking to her in a low, soothing voice, and she thinks maybe the Light and calm is coming from him too.  _ I’m sorry, Kix. _ She really hadn’t meant to disturb the Force.  _ I didn’t mean to reach without permission. _ Now if only she could actually  _ tell _ him that…

~~~

Kix doesn’t mean to hear her thoughts, he’s trying not to listen, but it’s like she’s aiming the words at him on purpose, although she doesn’t project, and he blinks, hesitates because actual words from her are something he didn’t expect, not for a long time, and this isn’t the same, but…

He hesitates before answering, because he still isn’t sure she wanted him to feel that, but the Force gives him a nudge.  _ Answer her, little one _ . Kix doesn’t argue with the Force about this kind of thing, because the Force usually knows, so he reaches very cautiously back towards her mind.

_ It’s okay _ , he thinks.  _ I understand, nightmares are shitty. Bad. Kriff _ . It’s harder to control talking with his  _ thoughts _ than out loud, which he supposes he’ll have to work on.

He feels a flicker of surprise, gets the impression she didn’t expect him to hear, and Kix thinks (although he  _ hopes _ he manages not to project it) that since she’s hanging onto his mind she really should have expected him to hear.  _ I can shield better and not listen, if you want, _ he says, because since she’s awake now maybe it’ll be okay if she doesn’t feel him so much - he doesn’t suggest she let go. She’ll do that when she’s ready to and not before, and it’s not bothering him, and if it helps her stay grounded then it’s fine.

~~~

Ca’tra hadn’t  _ meant _ to project--in fact, she  _ knows _ she wasn’t projecting, just… well. Thinking. But Kix had  _ heard her _ and responded and--and a part of her is almost  _ desperate _ for shields, to pull back and hide, because the Master--but this is  _ Kix, _ not the--not Dooku. And it’s been a long time since someone  _ heard her. _

She uncurls herself, slowly, hesitant, grumbling to herself a little at the stiffness in her muscles, pushes herself up on one elbow and peers at him, a bit curiously.  _ Do you want to? _ she asks,  _ pushes _ the words at him a little, which is a new feeling. She finds she doesn’t mind it, so much.

She can  _ feel _ Kix hesitate, considering, and then he responds (which is so  _ new, _ so strange).  _ Whatever you need, _ he says carefully,  _ I don’t mind shielding if you don’t want me to listen. _

She blinks, at that. Tilts her head to one side, pushing herself to a sitting position and bringing her knees up to her chest (and then glaring as a lock of dark hair falls in front of her eyes, attempting to blow it away from her face).  _ You would stop, if I asked? _

_ Of course I would, _ he says, and there’s a flash of  _ anger, _ but she senses it’s not directed at her--she nudges his thoughts a little, curious (and emboldened by his answer), sees he’s angry at the--at  _ Dooku. _ And then he notices her presence, and she hurriedly retreats from those thoughts, dropping her eyes to her hands where they’re wrapped around her legs.  _ It’s okay, _ he sends, though, a bit of reassurance floating across too, and she dares to look up again.

_ Stay, _ she thinks at him, a bit accidentally, hurries to fix it.  _ I mean, _ and this is so much harder when someone can  _ hear  _ her,  _ I don’t--it’s… people don’t usually hear. _ Which isn’t much an answer.  _ Or I don’t want them to, _ and oh  _ kriff _ she didn’t mean to think that to him, oops, kriff.  _ Sorry, I’m not… I don’t… talk. To people. _ Except the Ma--Dooku. She answered him when he spoke to her, because it was necessary, because  _ punishment, _ and she  _ doesn’t want to think about this. _

~~~

Ca’tra’s thoughts are suddenly tangled, spinning, and Kix makes his own mind  _ steady _ , precise, careful, like this is a surgery, because he catches a flicker of memory of  _ pain _ .  _ It's okay, I understand. So it’s okay if I don’t shield? _ He does carefully shield the thought that he hopes that’s what she means, because that’s not important now.

Ca’tra’s answer is fast, still hesitant somehow.  _ Yes _ . Kix smiles at her, thinks he needs to get her back to sleep if he can because she’s got all kinds of internal damage from (he thinks) electric shock, and he doubts she’s slept much at all recently, and she’s dehydrated and scared and all of those things need  _ rest _ to heal. She still has a few strands of hair in her face and Kix resists the urge to offer to push it back for her; he doesn’t think that would exactly help her.

_ It would be good if you could sleep again, burc’ya _ , he says, isn’t even a little surprised when she recoils from that idea, brow furrowing sharply. He sighs a little and eases more Light and comfort, backs off from the suggestion a little. Although she does need to sleep, and he can’t sedate her because that would be a  _ deep _ breach of what little trust he’s apparently earned.

_ I can’t _ , she says, almost feels apologetic, and alright, he understands that. He’s been a medic for long enough, he knows how damage like this affects a person. Unfortunately, torture and injury and  _ kriffing Sith Lords _ make healing… difficult.

And he needs to figure out how to shield specific thoughts and feelings better.

~~~

Ca’tra doesn’t know if she wants to smile or wince at the thought she picks up, about  _ torture and injury and kriffing Sith Lords, _ because it’s sort of amusing how irritated Kix is, but also  _ she’s _ a Sith. In training. But she remembers a comment he’d made, about how he knew she wasn’t evil, and so she decides to maybe go out on a bit of a limb.  _ Evil Sith Lords? _ she asks, hesitant, nudges the brief memory of  _ Sith? Yeah, if they’re evil, but you aren’t, _ at him. 

To her surprise, Kix  _ laughs _ a little, grins, and she thinks that’s… nice. So she tentatively tries a smile back, feels a flicker of surprise from the medic, though he doesn’t say anything about it, and relaxes her fingers a bit (they’ve been tightly twisted together and into the blanket ever since she sat up).  _ Yeah, evil Sith Lords, _ he says, shakes his head a little, and she catches another stray thought, something about it being good she can smile still.

That, of course, is followed by  _ more _ irritation, the disgruntled impression he is  _ really kriffing bad _ at shielding, and she  _ shouldn’t, _ but for some reason that’s  _ funny, _ and she drops her eyes, stifles a tiny  _ tiny _ giggle in her knees.  _ It just takes practice, _ she tells him, ducks her head a little to hide a broader smile behind her hair, because he feels  _ happy _ and it’s infectious and she’s--she’s  _ not back there. _ It was just a dream (even if it was an  _ awful _ one), and the M--and  _ Dooku _ isn’t here, doesn’t have her, and she’d never even  _ dared _ to imagine this could ever happen. So  _ thank you, _ she says, sincere, peeks up at him again through her hair, looks away before he can catch her eyes.  _ For--saving me. _

~~~

Kix really, really should focus on getting Ca’tra to go back to sleep, because that is the responsible thing to do, and his job, but  _ Force  _ she's practically hiding in her hair and sneaking glances at him like she doesn't want him to notice and she'd smiled, she'd  _ giggled _ for kriff’s sake, and it's… damn it, it's  _ cute _ . He runs his hand over his tattoos reflexively.  _ I didn't do that much, Ca’tra. _ There's a surge of confusion, disbelief, and he shrugs.  _ No, I mean it. It's just… it's what we do here. The 501st, I mean. And the General. Anyone else would've gotten you out, you know. _

He thinks. General Skywalker had him worried for a bit, but he'd figured it out too.

He senses Ca’tra thinking for a second, then she says,  _ But you took the M- Dooku’s punishment, for… me. No one does that. _ He gets an impression of  _ never _ .

_ I was fine, _ Kix says awkwardly, dismissively.  _ I just got rid of the lightning, I didn't… _ He stops, shakes his head.  _ Anyway _ , _ I was glad to do it. _

From one side of the medbay he feels a spike of pain and turns a little, reaches out into the Force to see if that means someone needs more meds, needs his attention, but it's just Rex twisting wrong in his sleep. Kriff him, then. He'll be fine.

~~~

Ca'tra frowns a little, studies him when he glances over his shoulder, confused and more than a little curious. He looks back sooner than she'd expected and catches her eyes, and she freezes a little, unsure what to do. 

_ You can look at me, Ca'tra, _ he says gently, and she flushes a little, looks away.  _ I'm not going to bite. _

The--Dooku hadn't liked eye contact. She pushes that information at Kix, feels another spike of _ anger _ from him, sharper than the last one. She's not sure what to _ do, _ what to say, so she swallows a little and offers him the nightmare-memory-dream, tells him  _ this is what I was dreaming. _

He _ swears, _ aloud, sharp, and she tenses without meaning to, prepared for an inevitable blow or surge of lightning, but--there's nothing. Just a warm  _ apology _ and some frustration directed at himself.  _ Sorry, Kix. _

He shakes his head, a wry grimace twisting his face.  _ Nah, that was my fault, sorry. _ There's a stray drifting thought that _ I should know better _ and she frowns at it, pointedly raises her eyebrows.  _ I should, _ he defends,  _ I  _ **_do._ **

She half-shrugs.  _ You're fine. _ And he is, really.  _ I'll get used to it. _

Kix doesn't feel very impressed by that, and she thinks he can probably tell she's unsure, but she offers him a hesitant half-smile, barely more than a twitch of her lips, and she ducks her head down again.  _ What do your tattoos mean? _

It's a spur-of-the-moment question, and she flushes and hides behind her hair again, because what if that was too personal? She really hadn't _ meant _ to ask, it'd just… slipped out.  _ I'm sorry, I didn't mean--sorry, _ and she darts another nervous glance up at him, flushing more when she accidentally catches his eye.

~~~

Kix can’t help it; he laughs, runs his fingers over the tattoos again as he catches the edge of a thought that maybe it’s too personal of a question.  _ It’s okay _ , and he can’t help leaning forward just a touch, conspiratorially, and he smiles at her and tries to hold her gaze for a second although she quickly looks down again. “They just say ‘The only good droid is a dead one.’ So not all that personal.” He leans back again. “Kriffing satisfying though.”

She kind of raises an eyebrow at him.  _ Droids are stupid _ , she thinks, and Kix grins and nods.  _ And they break easily _ .

Kix snorts.  _ I’ll say _ .  _ I got this after my first couple campaigns. It seemed… appropriate _ . He’d lost a lot of  _ vod’e _ trying to save them, and he wasn’t a fighter, really, but he’d still been  _ angry _ , and tired. At the time he’d still felt every death like it was his fault. Somehow the ironic statement had seemed like the right thing to get tattooed - and, well, if the Aurebesh script had happened to look damn good too, then that was just a bonus.

He realizes Ca’tra heard most of that and sighs internally. He’s not used to having to pay so much attention to what he’s thinking.

_ Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la _ , she thinks, tentatively, and Kix huffs a small breath through his nose, shrugs.

_ Thanks, burc’ya.  _ He looks down on his knees, breathes a little. The Force hums a little and he reaches for some Light in one of the better meditation techniques he has. It isn’t one General Kenobi taught him, because he finds most of those require too much concentration. Which he doesn’t have  _ time _ for most days.

~~~

Ca’tra almost,  _ almost _ reaches out one hand, because she can  _ feel _ a hum of soft pain running just under the surface of Kix’s thoughts and she knows how that feels.

Almost.

But the idea of it, of  _ actually _ making herself vulnerable like that is… too much, so she just watches him, tentatively projects a bit of  _ understanding, _ because that’s the closest she can get to comfort. He feels grateful, some, but then she can feel him reaching (and  _ that’s _ odd, she’s never really felt that before) and the Force answers him, and there’s more of that calm-soft-brilliance and she frowns a little.  _ Kix? _

_ Yeah? _ he answers, sounds a bit distracted, focusing on whatever it is he’s doing or feeling, she thinks.

_ Is that the Light Side? _ She swallows a bit, shifts, tucks her knees up against her chest a bit more--hesitant to remind him she’s  _ dar’jetii. I’ve… never felt the Light Side before. _ It’s a hard thing to admit, because he’s a lightsider, she can  _ tell, _ even if he’s not a  _ jetii, _ and lightsiders and darksiders  _ never _ work together well. Different philosophies, and all that, she thinks. And she really doesn’t  _ want _ that.

~~~

Kix blinks and focuses a bit more on her, surprised - and then again, not sure why he’s surprised.  _ Yeah, it is _ . He thinks a second, then pushes into the Force a little.  _ Vod, you should show her what it feels like _ .

The Force, as it always does, feels  _ amused _ at his insistence on calling it  _ vod _ , but it just rumbles a little and he senses he should reach for her thoughts, focus, and it’s like a breath out and the Force sings a little and Light threads careful into her mind. Kix hopes it’s okay to do that.

Ca’tra’s eyes go wide and she actually looks up at him, startled, and he doesn’t know, again, why he’s surprised that her eyes don’t have even a speck of yellow in them anymore. They’re just soft hazel, tiny flecks of green, and he doesn’t worry he’s overstepped because he can feel wonder in her thoughts.

_ Thanks, vod _ , he says, and there’s an impression very similar to a laugh, a shake of the head. Kix  _ thinks _ the Force finds him amusing - which is fair. Since it’s the  _ Force _ .

~~~

_ Yeah, it is, _ Kix tells her, and then Ca’tra can feel him doing  _ something, _ she’s not sure what, and--

And in between one heartbeat and the next, she feels him  _ reach out _ and before she can decide if she should shield or not everything is  _ flooded _ with--with warmth and peace and calm, softness, and she knows instinctively  _ this _ is the Light. She sucks in a sharp breath, feels the Light’s warmth easily, effortlessly sweeping away the ice of the Dark in her veins, and jerks her eyes up to  _ stare _ at Kix, because--because this is so much  _ more _ than she’d imagined.  _ It’s so… bright, _ she thinks, only half-meaning to, and then she realizes she’s staring and she swallows, looks away quickly.

_ Yeah, that’s why they call it the Light Side, _ Kix says, sounds amused and almost affectionate.  _ Pretty great, isn’t it? _

Ca’tra closes her eyes, reaches a little into this strange new  _ brightness, _ the warmth of it all, the way everything  _ sings, _ heals and creates and  _ lives, _ humming with a vibrancy she’d never felt on Mustafar.  _ It’s beautiful, _ she thinks, feels Kix agree, investigates a bit more.  _ The Dark is… angry, all the time. Chaotic, destructive, but never warm, _ and she projects an impression of  _ ice, _ of the coldness of its grip.  _ This is… it’s fire. _

~~~

Kix hasn’t felt much of the Dark, but he has felt some, flickers on Umbara despite pretending he couldn’t, Sidious like a black hole or a dead star, nearly everything on Mustafar. And sometimes the anger in him is cold too, near-icy, but that’s just part of war. He reaches for a little more Light to project to her, privately delighted by her reaction.  _ I know. The Light Side of the Force is better _ .

As usual, the Force doesn’t like that assertion, because the Force thinks balance is very important. Kix supposes that’s probably true, but still.

The Light Side is better.

Ca’tra finally feels so much  _ calmer _ , and Kix threads a little more Light through her thoughts as he brings back his suggestion from earlier:  _ You should try to sleep now, Ca’tra _ .  _ I can keep the Light there for you so you don’t have any nightmares _ .

She hesitates, but Kix knows how the Light feels, knows it’s hard to resist its warmth and peace, and also can feel how  _ tired _ Ca’tra is. He resists the urge to put Force-suggestion into his words because he  _ wants her to sleep _ but that would be too much. “I’ll be in the medbay all the time, over there tonight,” he says, points at his  _ wonderful _ chair, “and I can make sure there’s no more nightmares or Dark.”

_ Okay, _ she thinks, then straightens a little, lets go of her legs with one arm and picks up one of her pillows. She turns back to him, cocks her head a little and raises her eyebrows, holding the pillow out in his direction. She’s  _ almost _ smiling.  _ You should take this. For the chair _ .

Kix laughs and reaches out (slowly) to take it from her.  _ Thanks. You’re smart, bribing me with pillows.  _ He wants to wink, but  _ really _ , he’s not  _ Fives _ , he’s not that insufferable.  _ I owe you one, mirdala _ .

Ca’tra actually feels amused at the nickname. Kix smiles and eases himself to his feet - and  _ Force _ he’s too tired. “Just try to rest, okay?” he says. It’s  _ easy _ to keep the Force humming softly through her thoughts and around her bunk - and apparently, as it turns out, the rest of this half of the med bay. That’s probably good, actually. He’s never tried this before.

_ Okay _ , she says, and he wraps both arms around the pillow she handed him and goes back to his chair so he can keep an eye on his patients like he needs to. Maybe later he’ll wake up Tuck and get him to sit in this stupid kriffing metal chair while he gets some sleep. After all, Tuck didn’t have to fight any Sith today.

For now, though, he focuses on staying awake, staying anchored in the Force so he can pay attention to everyone and keep everything  _ peaceful _ .

~~~

After Kix leaves, her spare pillow clutched loosely in both arms, Ca’tra stays upright for a long moment, watching as the medic (who she can feel is almost as tired as she is) makes his way back to that truly  _ awful _ looking chair and sits down, tucking the pillow behind his back. He doesn’t look  _ comfortable, _ exactly, but she’d like to think the pillow helps.

_ Mirdala, _ he’d called her.  _ Clever. _

She doesn’t quite smile, but she decides she likes the way it sounds; and maybe it’s the way the Light is still warm and soft and  _ peaceful _ through her thoughts, but she feels almost  _ relaxed. _ Not quite, not wholly (she can’t remember what it feels like to be totally relaxed), but enough to let herself give in to exhaustion and lay back down, curling up in a ball beneath the blanket and looking out over the medbay.

It’s still dark, there’s still shadows shifting and deep pools of blackness beneath every bunk, but she’s not  _ cold _ anymore and she can still feel Kix, a whisper-light hum in the back of her mind, barely-there but all the more reassuring for that. Maybe she  _ should _ put shields up, but she trusts him not to look at anything, and if she puts up shields that might block the  _ warmth, _ and she doesn’t want that. So she lets the Light soothe her towards sleep, trusts Kix to keep his promise, and the peace and tranquility, almost, lets her eyes drift close. 

It’s  _ nice, _ she thinks tiredly, and she lets out a soft sigh and nestles deeper into the blanket, sends a sleepy  _ thank you _ in Kix’s direction. And then the Light wraps her warm and bright in its embrace, and she lets sleep take her.

~~~

Rex doesn’t think he’s ever going to be comfortable with the burning, itching,  _ shifting _ feeling that Force healing gives him. Sure it’s fast, and sure it’s great that Kix can do it, but it doesn’t ever  _ feel right _ .

Particularly, as it turns out, when it’s his  _ throat _ that needs fixing - he feels like he needs to cough or gag or  _ something _ . However, when Kix leans back with a semi-satisfied look on his face, Rex is relieved to find he can move his head again and talk without regretting it.

“Thanks, Kix,” he says, and his friend just rolls his eyes tiredly and moves on to Ahsoka, who hasn’t been much more communicative today. Rex barely even has to think about his projections anymore because he’s holding onto them automatically: love, calm, a thread of concern. They’re in orbit over Coruscant, and although normally Rex prefers the  _ Resolute _ , because it feels more like home, Coruscant means they get at least a short leave. And Rex needs that. They all do.

Right now most of the more stable of the wounded are being moved to the Jedi Temple medbay; Kix has adamantly refused to move anyone in his little partitioned-off room yet, and Rex thinks that’s probably wise. From what he understands, Kenobi has been barking orders from his bunk all day, having Cody get the rescued slaves and POWs from his cruiser down to the surface.

It takes Kix a few minutes before he sighs, stands up, nods a little. “That’s all I can do for now,” he says, voice tinged with weariness. Then he moves on to the next bunk, and Rex shifts closer to Ahsoka, rests a hand on the small of her back.

_ Are you doing alright, cyare? _

~~~

Ahsoka is  _ tired. _

She  _ knows _ she should just… wake up, but her dreams are beckoning her with the sweet siren song of  _ safety _ and  _ peace, _ and she knows that’s not  _ good _ but she  _ wants it. _

But… but she  _ shouldn’t _ want it.

She curls closer to Rex (there’s a bit of a flare of pain in her side, but she can’t muster the energy to  _ care), _ presses her face into his collarbone and closes her eyes.  _ No, _ she thinks, which is the closest she can get to really understanding what’s  _ wrong. _ Because she doesn’t  _ know, _ doesn’t understand, and she thinks it should scare her more but she’s so  _ tired _ today and so  _ cold _ and it’s hard to care when she’s frozen.  _ The ice is back. I want--I want to dream, _ she tells Rex honestly, shivering a little and nestling as close to him as she can get.

~~~

_ Okay _ , Rex says, tries not to let her feel how much that scares him. He puts both arms around her, holds on  _ tight _ , thinks for a moment. He wants to ask why, why she just wants to hide in a dream and… and everything  _ else _ , because there's so much going on in her head and he can't figure it out. He decides to ask anyway, as gentle as he can, because he just wants to  _ understand _ .  _ Do you know why, Soka? _

She shakes her head against his chest, feels scared.  _ No, I just- I don't know. _

_ Okay, alright _ . Rex curls a hand around her montrals, sighs a little through his nose. He remembers there were a few men in his battalion, especially in the earlier days, who got to looking… hollow. He hadn't known to look for that before then, hadn't  _ understood _ when Kix tried to explain to him why they’d died from treatable injuries, why they'd pulled such  _ reckless _ stunts. Years and frequent acquaintance taught him better than Kix had been able to explain. His own weariness made it easier to understand, too. But he doesn't understand why his Soka is like that now, doesn't understand how to  _ help _ .

_ The dream is nice _ , he says carefully, slowly, listening in her thoughts for her reaction.  _ But it's… it's not real _ . He feels a surge of frustration, a sense that Ahsoka  _ knows that _ , and he sighs. He doesn't understand why she wants to stay in the dream, if it isn't real, because wouldn't that just make everything else feel  _ worse _ \- but he pushes that down, decides to just… sit. She feels too cold and too tired to make sense of anything and Rex is  _ terrified _ by that but he's good at hanging onto her, at least, good at  _ listening _ , so he can do both and wait.

~~~

Ahsoka wishes she knew how to  _ explain. _ She  _ knows _ the dream isn’t real, but… but it’s  _ happy, _ and it’s soft and warm and peaceful, and there’s no  _ pain, _ nothing hurts. She tries to push an impression of that across the bond, though she’s not sure she succeeds in totally capturing the feeling.  _ I  _ **_know_ ** _ it’s not real, _ she huffs, frustrated and tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with her body and everything to do with her mind and her heart. 

_ Then why? _ Rex doesn’t understand, she can feel, and he’s trying to coax an answer out of her without pushing too much.

She doesn’t  _ want _ to give him an answer, doesn’t want to admit to him the truth she’s only just begun to accept--but he deserves an explanation, at least, he deserves honesty, he deserves to know the  _ truth _ about her. So she swallows, takes a shaky breath.  _ Because it  _ **_hurts,_ ** she says, stifles a small sob,  _ because it hurts and I hurt and nothing ever  _ **_works_ ** _ and I don’t want to hurt anymore, Rex. _ She feels him try to say something, but she cuts him off.  _ Because I’m a coward, because I order people to die every day and I don’t even know why I’m fighting anymore. Because-- _ and she shudders a little, hides her face against his chest-- _ because I can’t, won’t watch you die too, it would  _ **_kill me,_ ** _ Rex, and I can’t do it anymore.  _

~~~

Rex trails his fingers in a light pattern over Ahsoka’s montrals, hums a bit while he processes what she’s said - it seems simplest to focus on one thing first, the thing he understands best.  _ I know _ , he says, lets understanding soothe steady and slow into her thoughts. He sends part of the memory of a few days ago, of sitting in the mess hall and feeling  _ exhausted _ . He does not let her see Fives, or the fact that he wanted to leave. Those things are better left for another day.

(Something’s bothering him, making his instincts thrill nervous. But he couldn’t name any one thing.)

_ I’m sorry, Soka, I… kind of understand.  _ Knows how it feels not to want to hurt anymore, lose anymore.  _ You aren’t a coward though, you know _ . _ You’ve never been. Sometimes it’s just too much - that’s not your fault or mine or anyone’s _ .

_ I’m scared, Rex _ , she says, and Rex finds it hard to swallow past an ache in his throat, suddenly.

_ Yeah, cyare. Me too _ .  _ But you’re gonna be okay, alright? _ He’s aware that’s a bit of a foolish thing to say, but part of him  _ believes _ it.  _ Trust me, we’ll figure it out. _

~~~

Ahsoka takes a shaky breath.  _ Okay, _ she breathes, trembling a little. There’s so  _ much, _ fear and horror and shame hiding behind the ice, behind the exhaustion, leaving her jittery and with a sickening  _ twist _ in her stomach--but she trusts Rex. Always has, always will.  _ Okay. Can--can you just… tell me a story? Please? _ She just wants to hear his voice, to feel  _ safe. _

Rex hums a little, soothes his hand over her montrals and headtails.  _ Sure, _ he says gently, and she can feel him thinking, considering.  _ There was this time, back when I was a cadet. One of the trainers had a head big enough he wouldn’t’ve been able to fit in a bucket, _ and his mental voice is wryly amused,  _ spent a lot of time talking about how he was a better shot just because he was Mandalorian. He irritated Cody and I to no end. One day I got tired of it and decided to challenge him, prove that I was better than him--Cody was  _ **_not_ ** _ pleased. _ She catches a flash of memory, someone saying  _ I am  _ **_not_ ** _ hauling your ass out of the trouble this is going to land you in _ before Rex tucks the memory away again, with the mental equivalent of a shrug.  _ Of course, I did it anyway. _

She smiles, just a little, because of  _ course _ he did.  _ What happened? _

_ I won, and Cody had to cover my cleaning shifts for a week. _ He still sounds ridiculously proud of himself.  _ The longnecks weren’t too happy with us, but, _ and there’s another mental shrug,  _ it was totally worth it. _

It’s hard to picture Rex as a cadet, though she thinks he’d  _ definitely _ pull a stunt like the one he’s talking about. She sends him a wave of fond amusement, though it’s an effort through the ice, curls a little closer.  _ So what you’re telling me is you’ve always been this reckless, _ she hums tiredly.

~~~

_ I am not reckless, _ Rex thinks, snorts.  _ It’s not reckless to challenge someone to a little extra target practice. _

Ahsoka sends him an impression that’s the equivalent of a raised eyebrow and  _ come on, really? _

Rex rolls his eyes, rubs her shoulder with one hand.  _ Reckless implies I don’t know what I’m doing, Ahsoka. I don’t put myself in situations I can’t get out of. _ Or at least not ones he isn’t prepared for.

He gets a memory of fighting Sidious, and winces a little, shrugs.  _ That wasn’t  _ reckless _ exactly,  _ he grumbles.  _ I knew what I was doing. I had to help you _ .  _ That was carefully premeditated insanity _ .

_ What about getting choked by Savage, how did that happen? _ He blinks; he hadn’t been sure she’d heard him talk about that, she’d been so out of it.

_That_ , he thinks, remembering his thought process somewhat wryly. _Was_ ** _very_** _carefully premeditated insanity. If it helps, I knew it was a terrible idea but it all worked out._ _Actually_ \- and he certainly doesn’t feel a tiny thrill of pride - _I killed him. So you could say I knew I could handle it_. He hadn’t, but if he admitted that, he definitely wouldn’t convince her he wasn’t reckless. Which is the point here. Not to brag about his victories like Lofty and Jesse always do.

~~~

_ I killed him, _ Rex says, and those three words break through the ice more fully than anything else has thus far. Ahsoka pulls back a little, stares up at him, unsure if she wants to kill him for being a stupid  _ di’kut _ and risking his life like that, or if she wants to kiss him for--still being a stupid  _ di’kut, _ but a really badass one.

“You killed  _ Savage Opress?” _ she says, her voice hoarse. “By  _ yourself?” _

He’s  _ smirking, _ smug and far too proud of himself. “Yep,” he says, pops the ‘p’, and reaches out with one hand to lightly tap her nose with a finger. “Stabbed him in the throat.”

_ If you’d died I would’ve killed you, _ she grumbles, because he’s  _ insufferably _ smug, but his finger slips from her nose to trace the white markings on her face and that mollifies her some. It’s too much effort to keep her eyes open, so she lets her eyelids flutter closed, leans into his touch and sighs softly.  _ You’re still reckless. _

_ So are you, ‘Soka, _ he hums.  _ Cody told me about that stunt you pulled with the destroyer. _

She can’t quite stifle a wince.  _ It needed to be killed and I didn’t have any droid poppers or grenades. _

Rex frowns, and she can  _ feel _ his disapproval, and worry, and something else.  _ But not at the cost of your life, cyare. _

She half-shrugs one shoulder.  _ Why not? It needed to be done. _

~~~

_ Not that badly _ , Rex thinks, has to put some effort into not projecting it  _ sharp _ . It’s like it doesn’t register anyway, though, and she shrugs again. Rex eases back, leaves one hand on her cheek and slides the other down to her bicep, frowning. “Ahsoka, killing a Sith might -  _ might _ \- be something we could die trying to do. Protecting our men. But  _ one Destroyer _ , Ahsoka?”

_ It needed to die, and I was there, and I killed it _ , she says, and Rex bites back a string of swear words because that would not be particularly helpful.  _ You could have died fighting Savage _ .

_ It’s not the same! _ he snaps, closes his eyes for a second and sighs because he needs to not  _ do this _ , it’s not going to help.  _ That was necessary, this… this was  _ actually _ reckless. _ He’s seen his  _ vod’e _ do things like that, pick fights they can’t win, try things they can’t pull off, and sometimes it’s cockiness but sometimes it’s that they don’t really expect, don’t really  _ want _ , to succeed.

And Rex can’t stand that  _ his Soka _ has done the same thing.

His instincts still have him wound tight, too - he’s going to have to figure out why but he thinks it’s not urgent, exactly, just important.

~~~

Ahsoka sighs a little, shakes her head.  _ Maybe it was reckless, _ she says, half-shrugs again,  _ but I--I don't know, Rex, nothing makes sense anymore and I don't know what to do. _

_ We'll figure it out, _ he promises again, runs a hand across her montrals again.

She lets the promise soothe her, leans into his hand. Rex will help. Everything will be okay, now, he'll help her break the ice and be _ warm _ again.  _ I love you, Rex. _

_ Love you too, Soka, _ and he presses a light kiss to her forehead.  _ No more fighting for a while, okay? _

Ahsoka doesn't think she's ever been so glad to hear those words.

~~~

Miik has been trying to peer through the barriers in the medbay for five minutes when Sniper comes up behind him, crouches down and gives him a look. “Miik, you can't go back there.”

“Why not?” Miik says. He's curious about why Kix and the medics sectioned off the medbay, and Sniper had only told him, rather carelessly, it was because they wanted to keep nosy kids out of there. Which is not a good answer. “I want to see.”

“ _ Vaar’ika _ , the patients in there are all very tired,” Sniper drawls. “And sad. I need you to stay out here.”

Suddenly Kix tugs back one of the partition pieces and pokes his head out, looks at the two of them. “Miik,” he sighs, “How long have you been standing there?”

“A while,” Miik lies, because it hasn't been  _ that _ long but he wants Kix to let him through. He's  _ curious _ .

Kix sighs again, rolls his eyes, and comes out and crouches down, waves his hand so Sniper runs off to do something else. “Look,  _ vaar’ika _ , I can let you in, but everyone over here is very easily scared. You have to stay by me and not be loud, okay?”

_ Yes! _ Miik stops himself from being too excited because he can tell Kix is tired and he can  _ feel _ that Kix is right, all the people beyond the partition are scared and hurting and exhausted.

“Now look, if we see Captain Rex you can talk to him, that's fine. Ahsoka is sad, and my friend Ca’tra doesn't talk to anyone so she won't answer you. I don't want you to talk to Echo at all, if we go by him, okay?”

Miik nods. Kix is being very serious, so he's serious too when he says, “Yeah, Kix, I get it.”

“Okay, good, kid. Now come on.” Kix goes back through the wall, and Miik hurries after him, clutching the piece of bread he's got in his pocket.

The magic (which Anakin has told him is the Force) hums very loudly with pain, over here, and Miik pins his ears back against his head, tries not to hiss because Papa says hissing is rude. He trails after Kix to a bunk where a human (a female one, he thinks) with long black hair is sitting, playing with a length of rope, and she feels nervous. Miik isn't sure how he knows it's her that feels nervous. Probably the magic- the Force.

“Ca’tra,” Kix says, his voice going soft in that way it does when he's talking to his patients and Miik’s mama, “this is Miik.” He pats Miik on the head, and Miik flicks his ears in annoyance because  _ honestly _ , he doesn't know why Kix (and most of the other humans, for that matter) like petting him on the head so much, but he wishes they'd stop acting like he's so  _ little _ .

~~~

Ca'tra looks up from her rope (Kix had gotten it for her that morning, after he'd come by to check on her and found her fingers raw from tying blanket threads into knots) when Kix and a small Zygerrian approach, looks down before she makes eye contact, focuses on the knot she's tying. The boy--Miik, apparently--comes _ very _ close to the edge of her bunk before stopping, and it's instinct to tuck her knees a bit tighter to her chest, tighten her fingers around the rope.

“Hi,” Miik says, and he looks _ curious _ and eager and interested. She tilts her head a little to one side in acknowledgement, waits--she can _ tell _ he's not done talking. He's practically vibrating with a question, after all. “Kix says you don't talk. My momma doesn't talk much either, papa says it's cause she's sad all the time. Are you sad too?”

Ca'tra freezes a little, her hands stilling, looks up at Kix. The medic is watching carefully, ready to step in, but he just smiles reassuringly at her, threads a bit of Light through her thoughts, which helps. A little.  _ Sometimes, _ and she half-shrugs a shoulder, doesn't quite make eye contact.  _ Mostly just careful, sometimes scared. _ She thinks Kix picks up on that thought, because he _ looks _ at her and she can feel a thread of concern.

“Can you show me how to do that?” Miik asks, suddenly, startling her a little. He's pointing at the rope, at the elaborate knot she's tied in it.

_ I'll be right here, _ Kix promises gently, softly, and that's good. Kix is safe.

_ Yes. _ She undoes the knot with a single tug, hesitates before dropping her legs so she's sitting cross-legged, leans forward a little and holds the rope out in front of her, waits. To her surprise, Miik scrambles up to sit with her; she tenses a little, but he doesn't do anything and so she relaxes a little, smiles at Kix. This will be okay. She thinks.

~~~

It surprises Kix a little that Miik is so calm - but then, he's seen the boy with his mom, how careful he and his father both are, and suddenly he's glad he let Miik come over here. Miik watches Ca’tra do a step in the knot, then undo it and pass it over to him; he imitates her very carefully, starting to ramble, almost to himself.

Kix finds himself a chair, lets the smile playing around the edges of his mouth grow.  _ I told you you were smart, _ he projects carefully to Ca’tra, feels a small hum of pleasure at that.  _ I think you're a good teacher _ .

Miik imitates the step correctly, shrills, “ _ Wizard! _ ” which Kix is sure he picked up from Anakin.

_ See?  _ he says, grinning when she peeks up at him, almost blushing.  _ Mirdala. Although I don't know if he needs to know how to tie more knots _ .

Ca’tra looks back at Miik, but pushes some of her hair behind her ear shyly, which Kix decides to assume means she appreciates his compliment. He's proud of Miik - the  _ vaar’ika  _ isn't being as careful, maybe, as Kix would be himself, but he seems to know instinctively not to scoot any closer on the bunk and he's (mostly) being very quiet like Kix had asked.

“I did that wrong,” he proclaims after the third step, pushes the rope back at Ca’tra, who smiles slightly and undoes Miik’s efforts, shows him again, more slowly. Miik imitates it this time again, gets the same thing wrong - Kix sees what it is, and he leans forward, taps Miik on the shoulder. “ _ Vaar’ika _ , that part goes over, not under.”

~~~

Ca'tra projects a thankful hum at Kix for pointing out the error, looks up to see him just _ watching _ her with a little smile on his face and warmth in his eyes. She flushes a little, looks quickly back down, reaches out and touches one of Miik’s hands, directs him to adjust the way he's holding the rope. He frowns, watches her fingers intently as she manipulates the rope.

It takes a few more minutes, but soon Miik has the completed knot in his hands. “Wizard,” he enthuses brightly, a bit loud--she breathes through it, manages not to flinch or even tense up much, smiles at him.

_ Tell him he did well? _ Ca'tra asks, with a glance over at Kix, who nods.

“Ca'tra says you did good, Miik,” Kix says, and Miik smiles even wider.

“Can you show me another one tomorrow?” he asks, eyes big and wide and pleading, and she sighs, taking the rope back, smiles a little bit.

_ Yes. _ She nods, and Miik cheers, then claps his hands over his mouth and whispers, “Thanks!”

“Come on,” Kix says, puts a hand on Miik’s shoulder, “let's go talk to the Captain, yeah?”

Miik nods, scrambles to his feet, waves. “Bye, Ca'tra!”

She wiggles her fingers in a little tiny wave, smiles widely as the two of them leave.

~~~

Miik glances back at Ca’tra as he follows Kix, catches her smiling before she goes back to tying her knots. He likes her.

The Captain is leaning on a bunk, the Jedi, Ahsoka, sitting on it crosslegged and looking, as Kix had said, sad. The Captain, on the other hand, looks really entertained.

“Damn, Kix.” Captain Rex leans forward a little, smiling, then glances down at Miik and cringes. Miik thinks it's because of the swearing again. “You're  _ hopeless _ ,  _ vod _ .”

“What do you mean, Rex?” Kix says, snorting. He sounds annoyed, as he goes over to Ahsoka and starts probing at her side. Miik scrambles past Captain Rex and up onto the bunk next to Ahsoka. She smiles a little bit at him.

“Oh, come on,  _ vod _ , I know that face,” Rex says dryly. “So what do you like about her so much?”

“Ca’tra is sweet, but-” Kix starts, and Rex  _ smiles _ .

“So her name is Ca’tra? That's a great name.”

Kix sputters, and Miik gets it, suddenly. “Oh my gosh!” he says, excitedly, mischievously. “ _ Kix. _ You  _ like _ her, right?”

“No! No, shh, Miik, I told you to be quiet.” Kix’s skin looks  _ red _ , which Miik thinks happens when humans get embarrassed. “Rex, come on. I'm not… She's a  _ patient _ , Rex, she's vulnerable and I'm not-”

“I never said you were gonna do anything stupid, Kix,” Rex says, giving Miik a smile and a wink. (Miik still finds the Captain intimidating; the other soldiers are nice though, and it seems like Rex probably is too.) “But it’s obvious you’re a goner,  _ vod _ .”

“Shut up,” Kix grumbles, and Miik glances at Ahsoka when she snorts a small laugh.

“She’s nice,” Miik says frankly, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I like her.”

“That’s nice,  _ vaar’ika _ ,” Kix says, still redder than normal. Humans are so  _ weird _ . Miik likes them.

Rex reaches over and scratches Miik’s head, behind his ears, and that’s  _ annoying _ , not him, too- except Miik doesn’t quite mean to, but he tilts his head closer to Rex, wrinkles his nose to show he still doesn’t approve. “Why is everyone so upset?” he asks, quietly, frowning. “It feels… It doesn’t feel good in here.”

Rex sighs, shrugs, stops scratching Miik’s head (which annoys him  _ more _ because sure, it’s dumb all the humans do that, but it’s still  _ nice _ ), and stretches a little. “We had a big fight, kid. Sh- Stuff went wrong. And people got hurt.”

“Hm.” Miik pokes at the scratchy material of his pants with one claw, thinks about that. He thinks a  _ lot _ of things go wrong around here. His papa says that’s how war is. Sighing and pulling both his bread and his carved Loth-wolf out of his pocket, he tears off half the bread to hand to Ahsoka and starts eating the remaining piece. “Wish that happened less.”

~~~

Kix watches as Ahsoka takes the bread from Miik’s hand, smiles a little at the boy and says, “Thanks, Miik.” She seems to relax a little around him, which is good--he’ll have to remember that--especially when Miik starts rambling about loth-wolves, showing off the carving. Ahsoka is… she looks a little uncomfortable, feels that way too, but she’s listening, and she seems  _ alert. _

Hm. Perhaps it’d be a good idea to have Miik come visit her more often.

Rex is still  _ smirking _ at him, and Kix tries valiantly to ignore his Captain. Okay, so yes, Ca’tra is sweet, and clever, and yes he’s noticed the way her eyes light up when she smiles, but that’s not the  _ point. _ He’s not--she’s  _ vulnerable, _ for kriff’s sake, he’d never take  _ advantage _ of her like that, he--the Captain is silently  _ laughing at him. _

“Kriff you, sir,” Kix mutters, after glancing down to make sure Miik’s too busy telling Ahsoka about Akaan to listen.

“Relax, Kix,” Rex says, and at least he’s (mostly) stopped smirking, though his eyes are  _ far _ too bright and mischievous for Kix’s comfort. “It’s cute, and I think she smiled more at you in the last five minutes than she has since I’ve been here.”

Which is, again,  _ not the kriffing point. _ “That’s not--I just know how to talk to her, that’s all,” and kriffing hells that sounds like a pathetic excuse. But it’s  _ not an excuse. _ Honestly.

“Kix,” and that’s Ahsoka, a hand on Miik’s shoulder to hush him, “did you  _ mean _ to form a Force bond with anyone?” Her voice is a bit rough, and she’s quieter than usual, but at least she’s  _ interacting. _

He blinks. “I--what?” A kriffing  _ Force bond? _ Why would he  _ do _ that? “No?”

She  _ almost _ laughs--he can see a bit of a sparkle in her eyes, and that’s good, that’s an improvement, even if it  _ is _ at his expense. “Well, you’ve bonded with,” and she frowns a little, concentrating, and then she  _ does _ laugh. “Your  _ friend _ over there--I should’ve recognized it,” and kriff it now  _ she’s _ grinning at him.

Kix wants to swear, barely manages to restrain himself. Because  _ kriff. _ He did  _ not _ mean to do that, doesn’t even know  _ how-- _ and then he thinks of Ca’tra grabbing onto his mind,  _ hard, _ thinks of himself surrounding her thoughts with Light and warmth. (Rex is grinning again, and  _ why does he even try, _ seriously.) He  _ needs _ to fix this, no matter that he… well, he likes being able to  _ hear _ her. But that isn’t important, that doesn’t  _ matter, _ it’s a breach of trust and her trust is  _ infinitely _ more important than hearing her thoughts. 

He needs to check on Echo,  _ really needs _ to talk to Ca’tra about this, so he fixes Ahsoka with a stern glare. “Stay in bed, Commander, and watch the  _ vaar’ika.” _ He ignores Miik’s grumble, adds, “I have shit--I mean,  _ stuff. _ I have  _ stuff _ to get done.”

~~~

Miik watches Kix go a little grumpily, then settles back more on the bunk and fiddles with his wolf. His bread is gone already, and he wants to go get more food to keep in his pocket, but Rex sits down on the bunk by him and Ahsoka and raises an eyebrow. “So you were saying Akaan gave you that?”

“Yeah.” Miik turns the tiny carving over in his fingers. “I want more of these, they’re cool. I want him to teach me how, actually.”

“You with a knife sounds like a bad idea,” Rex says dryly, but Ahsoka is smiling a little so maybe  _ she’ll _ be on his side. Miik turns and gives her a pleading look, maybe overdoes it a little. Ahsoka leans into Rex, and Miik sees her headtails move a little. He can’t figure her out at  _ all _ , humans are hard but whatever Ahsoka is is a lot harder.

“It wouldn’t be, it would be  _ awesome _ ,” he insists, and both of them grin like he’s said something funny. Unfair.

“I don’t trust Akaan to teach you that kind of thing,” Rex says. “He’s not careful.”

Miik grumbles under his breath, rubs his thumb over the wolf’s ears. “What do you know, anyway?” Which is  _ not  _ the right thing to say, Papa always tells him to not  _ talk _ like that, and he hisses a little and pins his ears back. “Sorry.”

Rex laughs at him, too loud, and Miik tightens his ears back against his head, makes a face. The Captain starts scratching his head again and  _ that _ is not fair. “You’re fine,  _ vaar’ika _ . Maybe we can talk to Akaan about it, he might like that.”

Ahsoka’s expression is sort of disbelieving, but Miik just crows happily and jumps off the bunk to go ask Akaan  _ now _ \- except oh yeah, he was supposed to be quiet and stay with Ahsoka. Blast. He turns around, sheepishly, and climbs back onto the bunk, crosses his arms. “That would be cool,” he says, and Rex smirks at him behind Ahsoka’s head (because she still kind of looks like she doesn’t approve). Miik gets more comfortable (although it’s hard in the stupid scratchy clothes the humans gave him) and huffs out a breath. He is hungry, and he wants to see who Echo is and then go learn how to carve things. This is kind of okay though, too.

~~~

The medbay’s lights dim as shiptime gets closer to night; it’s instinctive for Ca’tra to mark the passing hours by the way the light changes. The--Dooku had used a similar method to keep her body’s rhythms accurate when she spent long periods of time on Mustafar. So she  _ knows _ it’s evening--she just doesn’t particularly  _ care, _ or she  _ does, _ but she doesn’t want it to get dark again. When it’s dark the shadows get thicker and choking and it’s hard to remember she’s not on Mustafar anymore, she’s not with Dooku anymore.

She’s unused to being forced to spend so much time  _ stationary; _ on Mustafar, she’d always been able to train with her lightsaber or wander the complex (usually) or ‘talk’ to the holocrons, even during the times when Dooku spent  _ weeks _ offworld, doing… stuff. Even with her rope, and her knots, she’s still  _ restless, _ and she huffs out a tired sigh, flops dramatically back onto her pillow and drops the rope. The room is too  _ small _ and too  _ loud _ and it’s getting  _ dark _ and she wants to be  _ not here. _ Except Kix is here, which means it’s safest here (she’d be safe with Elle, too, but she’s not sure where her  _ ori’vod _ is), so she needs to be here.

But she’s  _ bored. _

“Restless?”

Ca’tra  _ jolts, _ jerking back upright before she realizes it’s Kix, standing casually a meter or so from her bunk. He looks sheepish, grimaces a bit. “Sorry, my bad.”

She hadn’t even  _ noticed _ him come over. Only a day--ish?--in something like safety and her instincts are already rusting. Not  _ good. _ She huffs out an irritated sigh, feels around the bunk until she finds her rope again and grabs it, picks at the knot to undo it. Doesn’t quite look at him.  _ I don’t like sitting here, _ she finally tells him, careful, quiet, grumbles inarticulately at the knot. It’s  _ stuck. _ Stupid thing. She concentrates, tugs on the piece of rope,  _ hard-- _ and the knot finally comes a little loose, but her fingers slip and catch and the bandages keeping her fingers from rubbing raw and bloody rip off.  _ Oh, shavit, _ she snaps to herself, frustrated, tugs her knees up to her chest and drops the rope off to one side. 

She didn’t really want to mess with it anyway.

~~~

Kix tries not to smile too much, also tries not to notice how her nose scrunches up when she frowns.  _ You should be more careful _ , he thinks, taking a step or two closer.  _ Can I fix the bandages for you? _

Ca’tra makes a face but nods.  _ Yeah _ .

Kix takes the last few steps over to her bunk, sends an impression of what he’s going to do before tentatively sitting down at the very edge of her bunk and digging into his medpac for new bandages. Ca’tra holds out her hands so he can reach them,and he unwraps the few bandages that didn't come totally loose yet.

He's not sure how he's supposed to explain about the bond - at least Rex and Ahsoka know each other,  _ had _ known each other, so for them to have a bond, it worked out fine. But he’s known Ca’tra for only about a day, and she's been in hell for, apparently, years, and for all he knows she'll see it as a breach of trust and he can't help her if she does.

He sighs a little to himself, and carefully, quickly wraps her fingers up again (since she seems to need to be able to keep fiddling with her rope). It's his turn to avoid eye contact, even after he finishes his task and puts the bandages away in his medpac; it's easier to just focus on keeping his hands steady and to peer at the floor like it interests him. Which it does not. He just doesn't know how to bring this up.

_ Kix? _ He thinks Ca’tra can tell he's uncomfortable, which is… difficult.

_ Sorry, _ he says, looks up at her, catches her eyes long enough to smile.  _ I'm…  _ He just stops a series of impressions from projecting, picks specific words instead.  _ I realized there's a…  _ For kriff’s sake, he doesn't know what he's doing. He reaches for the Light, feels the Force hum in amusement.  _ It's not funny _ , he tells it.  _ This is the opposite of funny _ .

_ Little one, it's simple _ .

_ The things you think are simple usually aren't, _ Kix snaps.

The Force just hums a little more, gives him more of the Light and calm.

_ Sorry, _ he says again.  _ I think I made a mistake, I don't know how, and now there's a… it's called a Force bond, between our minds. And I guess… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but our minds are connected now and I don't know how it happened. _ He tries to stem the flow of thoughts because he's getting ahead of himself and he's  _ worried _ . He doesn't want to scare her with that because people's minds are meant to be their own and he doesn't want to push where he doesn't belong.

~~~

Ca’tra has never heard of a  _ Force bond  _ before, but she thinks it sounds fairly simple. Kix seems…  _ worried, _ and she studies him for a moment, the way he’s almost hunched over his knees, doesn’t want to look at her. 

She guesses, from the bits of information she can glean from his surface thoughts regarding the nature of a Force bond, that the way she’d reached out to him as the only  _ safe _ thing probably had something to do with it; she thinks the idea of someone having a connection to her head like that should be  _ scary, _ and a part of her thinks it is. And she’s… apprehensive, for sure, because that’s a  _ lot, _ and close, and yet…

And yet she thinks she  _ likes _ being able to feel him, to know she’s not alone in the dark (or the Dark).  _ You said, if I asked you to stop listening, you would, _ she ventures, hesitant, feels immediate agreement.  _ So… so I think that’s fine, then. Because you’re telling the truth. _ She can  _ feel _ that.  _ And--I can’t feel the Light by myself, _ she admits, looks down at her knees.

It’s not that she’s not  _ worried, _ not unsure, because she  _ is _ those things. But she  _ wants _ the warmth and peace of the Light, and she likes being  _ heard, _ she likes that Kix thinks she’s  _ clever, _ because that means she’s not just silent. So many people have ignored her, talked down to her, like they think just because she doesn’t speak she’s  _ stupid. _ And she’s not. At least, she doesn’t  _ think _ she is, and she knows Elle doesn’t think she is. And Kix called her  _ mirdala, _ clever, smart. Because he can  _ hear _ her, because he  _ listens. _ And she likes that.

So she thinks, though she’s not totally sure about it, she thinks maybe this is  _ good. _

She tries to project that impression to Kix, but she’s not sure how well she succeeds.

~~~

Ca’tra feels nervous, but she isn't flinching away from him or blocking him out, and Kix thinks that's good. It's okay, it's all turning out okay for now. He'll have to be very careful, but he can do that. He leans back a little, smiles at her, projects a promise not to pry where she doesn't want him.

_ Kix,  _ she thinks, after a moment, and she feels hesitant,  _ Can you… can you give me the Light again? _ And she'd said she couldn't reach for it herself, so Kix smiles and nods, reaches for the Light and eases it into her mind again and around her in the ambient Force.

She sighs a little, sends  _ thanks _ , and Kix does as he'd done the night before and eases the Light over the rest of his patients, feels everything settle soft and warm and calm. He senses Ahsoka get less icy, Echo actually start drifting toward sleep, some of the badly injured POWs get more comfortable. This is good, he thinks, this is why he likes the Light so much. It's warm and bright and it heals things. Ca’tra projects agreement with that train of thought, and Kix sighs quietly.

This is all going to be okay. They'll figure it out. The Light hums  _ purpose _ and Kix nods a little to himself. This is good.

_ Fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _burc'ya:_ friend
> 
>  _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la:_ not gone, merely marching far away
> 
>  _mirdala:_ clever, smart, intelligent

**Author's Note:**

> i'd say we're sorry, but we're really not--for the cliffhanger, at least.


End file.
